


Find Me In The Rubble

by thetruemiraclequeen



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien's 18, Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Angst, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Basically everyone is a hero or a villain but Marinette, Bubbler is a hero, But they still have powers, Chat's a big softie at heart, Criminal AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Hawkmoth took over half of Paris, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I don't know at this point, Lady Wifi is a hero, Marinette's 16, Maybe some Lila, Possessive Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Protective Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Sexual Tension, There's a tiny age gap, Villain! Chat Noir, but i changed my mind, cursing, innuendos, just teens being teens, kind of dystopian, nothing too graphic, plagg and tikki weren't going to be in this at first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetruemiraclequeen/pseuds/thetruemiraclequeen
Summary: Five years ago, the barrier appeared, trapping all of Paris with no way to contact the outside world. People with strange powers began to emerge, including Hawkmoth and his followers, and Paris was divided into East Paris, a place of refuge where people worked together to reform society, and West Paris, a place of crime a chaos with Hawkmoth at its center. The only thing keeping the West from taking over the East are heroes.Marinette is best friends with the East’s most beloved hero, Lady Wifi, with the power to travel through wifi signals and pause her opponents. Marinette doesn’t have a power. But she does what she can to help, staying behind in East Paris to help refugees from the West. Still, she can’t help but feel like she’s missing something. Like there’s something out there calling to her. Or someone.Adrien loves West Paris. Sure, it’s loud, filled with murderers, and always smells like blood and smoke, but it’s his home. It helps that being the son of Hawk Moth has its perks. But as much as he loves his home with all its parties and energy, he feels himself being tugged toward East Paris. Like there’s something out there calling to him. Or someone.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe
Comments: 71
Kudos: 336





	1. Chapter 1

The stew is steaming hot. Marinette can tell because for the first time since the power went down a couple of weeks ago, there’s a lot less arguing in the mess hall.

People smile at her as she passes, marking her as a chef from her apron and uniform. Those that recognize her wave and Marinette does her best to give them all wide smiles in return.

As Marinette makes her way back to the kitchen, a doll flies across the room, landing at her feet. She stoops down to pick it up. It’s handmade and poorly done, probably made by thrown-together scraps. The doll is threadbare, with rips and tears, and there’s a few dirt smudges on the face. But it’s clearly well loved.

“Excuse me,” a small voice says. A little girl no older than five with matted strawberry blond hair and dirty cheeks, looks up at Marinette.

Marinette offers the girl a smile, kneeling down and holding out her find. “Is this your doll?”

The girl nods, looking at the floor.

“She’s very beautiful,” Marinette says, smiling gently at the girl. “Does she have a name?”

The girl looks up with wide eyes and smiles. She’s missing her three front teeth. “Katy.”

“Katy,” Marinette says, stroking the dolls’ hair. “What a lovely name. You take good care of her, okay?”

The girl nods and Marinette hands back the doll and sends the girl back toward her mother.

Marinette weaves her way through the rows and rows of filled tables and finally makes it into the kitchen.

The heat hits her immediately, accompanied by the smell of spice and broth. She wordlessly joins the fray of other chefs, setting to work chopping carrots and potatoes for the stew.

“They say Lady Wifi made it back over the border last night and that she’s got a lot of refugees with her,”says Nathaniel, one of the other chefs, right as she’s putting carrot slices in with one of the stew pots.

“She’s back already?” Marinette asks, relief flooding her chest. The carrot slices plop into the stew as she accidentally drops them all at once. “Well, at least that explains the extra food.”

“Yeah, it was a real surprise,” Nathaniel says, peeling a potato and chucking the peel into a bowl that will be taken to the gardeners later for fertilizer. “She wasn’t supposed to be back for another couple of days. But that’s Alya for you.”

Marinette groans. “I just hope she didn’t overdo it again like last time. It took her weeks to heal.”

“That’s because she can’t keep still to save her life,” Nathaniel points out.

Sadly, it’s true. For as long as Marinette had known Alya, she could never sit still for too long—especially when something was unjust. It hadn’t surprised Marinette when Alya revealed herself to be Lady Wifi, East Paris’ most well-known and respected hero.

When Lady Wifi first showed up three years ago, the people of East Paris had celebrated in the streets. And when she’d helped rescue trapped survivors in West Paris and brought them over to safety, she was hailed as a hero, a much-needed thing then, and still now.

At first, Marinette had wanted to her sidekick. But Alya had eventually talked her out of it. She didn’t have a power, Alya had reminded her. Alya did. After much begging that for the most part went unacknowledged, Marinette had eventually dropped the issue. Instead of fighting the criminals of West Paris, Marinette stayed behind the front lines to help the survivors of the Fall. She helped cook dinner for refugees in safe houses multiple times a week, and during the day she made clothing and blankets for them using fabric and scraps scavengers had been able to find that week.

It wasn’t as exciting as being a sidekick, but it was honest work.

The doors to the kitchen fly open. “It’s Lady Wifi! She’s back!” a man Marinette’s never seen before calls.

The volume in the kitchen triples, excitement buzzing in the air.

Marinette stops what she’s doing and looks to Nathaniel.

“What are you still doing here? Go,” Nathaniel says, smiling slightly.

Without waiting for another invitation, Marinette sprints out of the kitchen and back through the mess hall, almost tripping over a few discarded blankets. People crowd to the front of the mess hall trying to get out the doors to catch a glimpse of her friend. It’s certainly louder than before, that’s for sure. She can’t blame them. Most of the people here have probably never seen Lady Wifi in person.

With her small stature, Marinette manages to squeeze through the crowd and out the doors of the mess hall.

Even run down, the hospital they set up camp at still smells sterile. Marinette knows the place well, having lived here for a couple of years. More excited crowds flood the halls, trying to make there way to the hospital’s entrance. But Marinette knows all the short cuts. She finds the nearest flight of stairs, which is mostly empty due to a lack of knowledge for the hospital’s layout, and races down the three flights it takes to get to the ground floor.

From there, it’s easy to find the hospital’s entrance.

Paramedics swarm the dozen or so West Paris refugees. Like usual, they’re thin from hunger and covered in grime. A couple are missing limbs and there are several that are bloody. It breaks Marinette’s heart every time she sees it.

They’re safe now, she assures herself. Alya got them out.

The hospital doors open and in steps a girl clad in a black uniform with electric purple stripes webbing across her chest. Her left arm is covered in from-fitting metal, half a gauntlet, half a glove. She has white knee-high boots made of a sturdy leather that was super hard to find. Marinette should know. She made the uniform herself. Minus the metal armor piece. That had been Nathaniel’s handy work. Metal was hard to come by these days, so he used his power to draw her the gauntlet.

Next to Lady Wifi stood her boyfriend Nino, or Bubbler. Marinette made his costume, too, though he’d asked for something a bit more laid back than Alya had. Instead of a form-fitting suit, he has a red hoodie trimmed with blue and yellow stripes with a white eye-like circle in the middle of his chest. His pants are black and baggy, comfortable and easy to move around in. He, too, has boots. They’re made from the same material as Alya’s, but black with red, yellow, and blue stripes at the top. He had black goggles on in imitation of a mask.

Alya wears no mask. She doesn’t need one. All of Paris, West and East, knows who she is and she doesn’t care.

“Alya, Nino, you’re back!” Marinette cries, running up to her friends. She wraps her arms around Alya and Alya does the same, holding her tight.

Marinette pulls back and hugs Nino, too.

“How was everything?” Marinette asks, stepping back to give them some space.

Nino and Alya exchange looks.

“We shouldn’t talk here, Marinette,” Alya says in a low voice. She jerks her head and Marinette takes the hint to follow her.

Nino and Alya walk side by side, hands clasped together. Marinette, as always, walks behind, the third wheel in all of this. It used to annoy her more, but she understands now that they need each other to keep themselves standing. They fight criminals and almost die trying. They need their love for each other to keep it together. Marinette can’t understand that and she knows it. So she’s content to stay behind.

Alya leads the three of them to an empty hospital room and closes the door behind them.

Marinette takes a seat on one of the chairs, hands folded in her lap. “So?”

Alya sighs, collapsing onto the bed, rubbing her forehead. This is the side of Lady Wifi that almost no one sees but Marinette and Nino. For the people, she has to be strong. But for them, she’s just Alya.

Nino stands beside he girlfriend, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It was rough, ‘Nette. Really rough. We almost got ambushed on the way back.”

Marinette sucks in a breath. “But wasn’t Alix with you? Shouldn’t she have been able to see it coming?”

“Timebreaker got knocked out,” Alya says. “It was my fault. I teleported the two of us to the meet-up spot, but I wasn’t careful enough. She got hit by falling rubble. She was just taken away by the nurses when you found us.”

“Alya, it wasn’t your fault,” Nino says. “You didn’t do it on purpose. How could you have known about the rubble?

Alya stays quiet, and shakes her head. She pushes herself up off the hospital bed, standing up. “I’m the number one hero. I should have been able to protect her.”

Not wanting an argument to break out, Marinette says, “You said something about an ambush. Was it just the usual?”

“We thought it was, at first,” Alya says, glancing at Nino.

“But there was this new guy,” Nino finishes. “Usually Hawkmoth just sends out Simon Says or Mime, or someone else like that. But this guy was a lot younger. He was decked out in all black and he kind of just…stood behind everyone else and watched? At first we were doing fine—kicking some ass, you know? But then this guy shows up and we start, I don’t know how to put this, slipping up? One minute we were fine, the next, we were missing easy punches and taking hits we’d usually dodge fine.”

“It was humiliating,” Alya says, cheeks flushing. “Mime managed to punch me in the face. In the face, Marinette! I could have teleported, or something. But I didn’t.”

“Hey, hey,” Marinette says, putting her hands, palms out. “Just breathe and calm down. You did great and you got a few more refugees across the border. That’s something to celebrate, right?”

Alya brushes a brown lock of hair out of her face and tucks it behind her ear. She smiles at Marinette. “Yeah, I guess. Thanks, M. I—” she cuts herself off, wrapping an arm around Nino and pulling him close. “We needed that.”

“We should probably go check on Alix,” Nino says, flashing a grateful smile at Marinette.

Alya nods, eyes dulling. All business, she says, “Right. Hey, Marinette? Think you can talk to Gamer about that guy we saw? Maybe he knows something about him.”

“Will do,” Marinette says. “If he finds out anything, I’ll let you know.”

“You’re the best, Marinette,” Alya smiles. She waves behind her, turning on her heel and walking out the door with Nino hot on her trail.

“Hey, Alya?” Marinette calls after her friend, running to the door to catch them before they make their way to the end of the hall.

Alya turns around, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Marinette toes the ground, feeling sheepish. “Do you think that you could take me with you on your next mission? I know first aid. I could be a paramedic! Or I could come for emotional support—”

“You know how I feel about that, M,” Alya says, frowning. “You don’t have a power. It’s too dangerous.”

“We wouldn’t want you getting hurt,” Nino agrees.

“R-Right,” Marinettes says, forcing a smile even though she feels herself crumble a little inside. “I was just wondering. It’s fine, I get it. You go check on Alix.”

Alya stays still for a beat and then turns around without another goodbye.

The second they’re out of sight, Marinette’s shoulders sag and she squeezes her eyes shut.

It’s not that she hated Alya and Nino. She loved them like siblings. But sometimes they were too protective. She could handle herself fine, thank you very much.

But, even though Alya had said no, Marinette felt the urge to disobey her. Recently, she’d been wanting to go help on the front lines a lot more than usual. And she’d been asking a lot more, too. She knew Alya was getting a bit tired of hearing her ask, but Marinette couldn’t help it.

Because, for whatever reason, Marinette felt like going to West Paris was what she was supposed to do. There was something out there that called to her. She just didn’t know what.

xXx

Adrien’s favorite part about the suit was definitely the bell. It just added a certain charm to the costume, a whimsy that the all-black and leather outfit lacked by itself. It helped that his father absolutely hated the damn thing. The second he found out, the bell instantly became his favorite thing in the world.

“You didn’t tell me you got permission to go on the front lines. Why?”

“Good morning, Kagami,” Adrien says as his friend starts to walk in time with him.

“Don’t dodge the question,” Kagami says, glaring up at Adrien, brown eyes glinting. Don’t test me, they seem to say.

“What’s there to say?” Adrien asks, speeding up his pace. “I asked father and he finally let me join up with a squadron as long as I promised to stay back and not fight.”

“Everyone’s saying you had a run-in with Lady Wifi,” Kagami says, her lips twisting into a sneer.

“Yeah,” Adrien snorts. “And I barely got to do anything. Mime and Simon Says took care of everything. All I did was give Wifi and Bubbler bad luck.”

Adriend shoves his hands into his pockets, weaving through the Louvre’s crowded plaza. They part for him as usual, recognizing him as ‘the boss’ son’. Being the son of a dangerous criminal overlord does have a few perks.

“Bullshit,” Kagami says shoving through the crowd and making it back to his side. “I heard you’re the only reason they won. Both Bubbler and Timebreaker were with her.”

“Timebreaker was knocked out,” Adrien counters.

“Adrien,” Kagami says through gritted teeth. “You’ve never wanted to fight Easterners before. But for the last month or so, it’s all you can talk about. I want to know why.”

“I want to live up to father’s name,” Adrien says, walking up to the Louvre pyramid. Again, the crowd parts and walks right in, traveling down the stairs.

What used to be a beautiful museum is now the biggest hot spot for crime in all of West Paris. Constant parties are held under the pyramid, criminals from all over West Paris congregating to get drunk and ruin some historic art pieces. To them, the Louvre represents criminal authority, the West beating out the usurpers in the East. But to Adrien, the Louvre is his home.

“It’s not like you to lie, Adrien,” Kagami says, elbowing him in the side.

“Maybe it should be. I’m the heir to a criminal empire. I have to learn to lie at some point,” Adrien shrugs, sidestepping an obviously-drunk couple probably on their way to go make out against the nearest wall.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Kagami says.” It’s not like you to lie, Adrien. So I’m going to trust that you’re lying for a good reason.”

Adrien’s quiet for a moment, listening to the loud, pounding music coming from the ever-present party. “Is there ever a good reason to lie?”

Kagami doesn’t answer.

The two of them wind their way through the Louvre to the section of the Palace reserved for Hawkmoth and specific criminal elites, including Kagami and her family. And, of course, Adrien.

The guards recognize them instantly and let them through

“Let me guess,” Kagami says. “You have to go report in to father-dearest about your latest mission?”

“I do,” Adrien says. “He shouldn’t yell at me too much considering I did what I was supposed to. What about you? Visiting your mother?”

“Yes. While you were gone, I was sent back to _arrondissement_ eight to check up on our main house to make sure our guards weren’t being negligent. That, and she wanted to be sure that no Easterners had stolen anything,” Kagami says, rolling her eyes.

“But _arrondissement_ eight is farther than the heroes have managed to go,” Adrien points out. “It’s too deep into our territory that they wouldn’t risk it. And besides, they usually only target _arrondissements_ fourteen and fifteen looking for civilians.”

“She knows that,” Kagami says plainly. “I think she only sent me there to annoy me. She knows I want to fight on the front lines.” Kagami cross her arms and shakes her head. “Anyway, I haven’t had a chance to ask you about your alias yet. I know you’ve got a costume that you still refuse to show me, but do you have a name yet?”

Adrien looks at his hand and clenches his fist. “Yeah, actually. I was thinking of calling myself Chat Noir.”

“Chat Noir,” Kagami says, testing the name. “I like it. It suits you.”

Adrien couldn’t tell if she meant it or not, but he decided to believe it anyway.

The two stop at a split in the hallway. “Well,” Adrien says. “This is where I leave you.”

“Good luck with your father.”

“And you with your mother.”

Adrien and Kagami part ways, Adrien taking the left and Kagami the right.

He walks down the hall and eventually finds the right door. He stops in front of it, hesitating to knock.

He hadn’t been entirely truthful with Kagami. Yes, father expected him to report in after his mission. But he also has other motives for going to see his father. He needs permission to form a team to invade East Paris. He's going to pose it to his father as a mission of necessity to take out Lady Wifi once and for all to lower morale in East Paris. Then, West Paris would invade.

While that part was technically true, Adrien has other motivations for wanting to go to East Paris. He can’t say why exactly, but he feels like there was something important there. It feels like he's being pulled, like he's missing something. And he wants to find out what it was.

Adrien takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on updating so soon, but with the positive responses, I got inspired. So, here's the second chapter early. I hope you enjoy it.

“What do you think?” Adrien asks after finishing relaying his plan.

Gabriel scratches his chin, gaze thoughtful. “An assault on East Paris. How interesting. You’ve had this planned for a while, Adrien.”

Adrien braces.

“I’m impressed,” his father says, lips twisting into a rare smile. “You may proceed with your invasion plans. I’ll inform Nathalie immediately. Do as you see fit for this invasion. I’m putting you in command.”

Adrien sucks in a breath, unable to keep a smile from spreading across his face. “Thank you, Father. I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t. Just don’t forget that this is going to be your first official introduction to both East and West Paris as my son and heir. Make sure it’s a good one,” Gabriel says. “That’s all. You’re dismissed.”

Adrien leaves the room, being sure to close the door behind him carefully. He makes sure the hallway is empty before slumping against the wall. “Yes.”

He gets to launch the invasion as planned. He gets to got to East Paris. His father was impressed with him! Him! Adrien can’t remember the last time Hawkmoth said he impressed with anybody.

The only problem is that now his father expects the mission to go well. Adrien has to do better than that. He has to do something he rarely does. He has to surpass his father’s expectations.

Adrien grins. “This is gonna be fun.”

xXx

“Max?” Marinette calls, wrapping her knuckles against the door to Max’s room. “Max!” Marinette calls again, louder this time.

“Is that you, Marinette? Come on in!”

She opens the door and squints into the dimly-lit room. She steps forward and nearly trips on a pile of large cables.

“Hey, Max, is this a good time? Lady Wifi sent me her to ask you some questions about a new villain she and Bubbler saw.”

“One second,” Max says. Marinette catches a glimpse of him from over a set of computer brightly-lit monitors, the only light source in the room. Max seems to be tinkering on some sort of android with a large spherical had and a tail-like body. “I’m almost finished with my greatest creation yet!”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s nice, Max,” Marinette murmurs, watching her every step, trying to navigate the maze of cables and shards of metal.

It had been decided a while ago that most scrap metal the scavengers found would go to Max—or, Gamer, if you were talking about his hero alias—so he could create weapons to help other heroes fight off Western attacks.

“Oh, no!” Max says. There’s a spray of sparks from Max’s machine and Marinette hastily steps back. This time she does trip on cables, falling onto her butt.

“No, no, no! I was so close to finishing him!” Max says, scrambling for his tool box. “And if I fail to fix the problem within the next ninety seconds, there is a seventy-eight percent chance that he’ll be ruined forever!”

Marinette pushes herself off the floor and hurries toward Max. She reaches out to help him but stops, searching around for the extra pair of rubber gloves he keeps near his work table. She grabs them, puts them on, and hovers behind Max.

“What can I do to help?” she asks.

“Hold him still,” Max says, not looking up from his tool box. He pulls out a screwdriver and turns back around. His safety goggles are black, scuffed, and smudged from many hours of work.

Marinette does what he says, holding the android down.

Max sits down at his chair and opens a panel in the android’s head. He tweaks a few things with the screwdriver, silent with concentration. Marinette keeps quiet, too, letting him focus.

Max’s fingers move deftly over the android.

 _Come on_ , Marinette thinks. _You can do this, Max_. She closes her eyes and hopes, the feeling tugging at her chest—

“And, done!” Max exclaims, closing up the control panel. “Thank you so much for your help, Marinette. I never could have done this without you. You’re like my secret good luck charm.”

She giggles. “No problem, Max, I’m always happy to help.” She pulls off her gloves and sets them on the table, brushing off her hands. “What did I help you with exactly?” She looks at the strange small android, arching an eyebrow.

Max pulls up his goggles, resting them on her forehead. “It’s my latest creation. I made it to help refugees recover mentally from past trauma they had in the West. Would you like to see?”

Marinette nods eagerly.

Max turns the android over, pressing down a button on its head.

A screen lights up on the android, revealing artificial eyes made of dotted lights. The propeller on the android’s head starts to spin and the next thing she knows, it’s hover in front of her face.

“Hello,” the android says. “I am Markov. Are you in need of any service? I am programmed to help those in need.”

“He’s wonderful, Max,” Marinette says, looking at Markov in awe.

Max beams. “He’s going to help a lot of people. Markov,” Max directs the robot. “You may go back to sleep now.”

Markov obeys, flying back over to the table and turning himself off.

“I still need to complete his programming and make him a portable charging station, but he’s basically completed,” Max says. “Now, you said something about Wifi needing help learning about a new villain?”

Marinette nods, running her fingers along the edge of the wooden work-table. “Yeah, apparently it was this guy all dressed in black who just sort of…stood back and didn’t really do anything? I don’t know all the details, so I have no idea why she sent me here,” Marinette admits. “But, back when your were a West Paris villain, did you ever hear anything about someone like that?”

Max purses his lips. “Not that I can recall.”

Marinette snorts. “Well, that’s not good. The guy whose power it is to literally remember everything can’t recall. That’s okay, I’ll tell Alya no dice.”

“Wait a minute,” Max says, holding up a hand. “Perhaps if you were to give me more information about the fight itself. Were they able to observe his power?”

She pauses. “I don’t think so, but they did mention that one moment they were winning the fight, the next they were taking a pretty serious beating. Think that might have anything to do with it?”

Max’s eyes light up and he sits down in his chair, kicking off the table and spinning around to face his monitors. He types a few lines and then pushes himself left. The printer starts whirring and it ejects a single piece of paper.

“Here,” Max says, handing her the piece of paper. “It’s a list of every villain I know of that could possibly have that type of power.”

“What type of power?” Marinette asks, cocking her head. “All I said was that they—”

“Randomly started losing the battle. Exactly. Many villains in the West have powers that could do something like that. Take Mindmeld, for example. He was a villain in a black cloak that had the power to mess with the minds of his opponents. Granted, I never got to see the power in person, but I added him to the list because it’s a possibility. He could have been the one at the battle and stayed back because he doesn’t fight as well when his opponents are in close range.”

There’s about six or so names on the list, all powers written down. Marinette skims it until she comes to the last name on it. But instead of a name, the paper just says, ‘Unknown’.

“Uh, Max? I think you may have messed up on this one,” She says, flipping the paper around and pointing to the mistake.

“No, that’s purposeful,” Max says, crossing his arms and looking at the paper thoughtfully. “I never learned the guy’s name, but Hawkmoth was rumored to have a son with the power to manipulate bad luck.”

“Hawkmoth has a son?” Marinette balks.

“Supposedly,” Max shrugs. “They were just rumors, but I thought I’d add him to the list anyways, just in case. When I was a villain, I never went close enough to Crime Central to find out if they were true. I lived on the outer ring with the rest of my family.”

“Crime…Central?” Marinette asks.

“Oh,” Max says, batting a hand. “That’s just the nickname Westerners have for _arrondissement_ one because the Louvre is their capitol.”

“Wow,” Marinettes says, rereading over the list of names. “This is a lot for having so little info, Max. Thank you so much. I’m sure Alya will appreciate it.”

“Just doing my job,” Max says. “And feel free to stop by more often. I could use the company.” He laughs and gestures to Markov. “And the luck.”

“I may take you up on that,” Marinette says, slowly recrossing the room to avoid tripping again.

“Bye, Max!”

“Goodbye, Marinette.”

Marinette leaves the room, vision spotting from the sudden difference in lighting. She blinks away the spots and holds the paper tightly to her chest.

Whoever that strange villain was that helped Simon Says and Mime at the attack, Marinette’s going to figure out who they are. And then Lady Wifi is going to get herself a rematch.

xXx

Chat Noir feels like a new man when he puts on the suit. The skin-tight black leather makes him feel in control, powerful. He’s made a few adjustment to the suit since his first battle with Lady Wifi. Deciding to embrace his namesake, he went all out and added cat ears, a belt reminiscent of a tail, and sharp claws to his gloves. He threw some colored contacts to tint his sclera green for good measure. The bell is, of course, still strapped to his neck.

He poses in front of the mirror, admiring his reflection. On his way out of the Louvre’s armory, he contemplates adding a gun to his repertoire of weapons. All he has right now is the extendable steel baton positioned at the small of his back. He decides against it. After all, what’s more intimidating than a villain who goes to battle without weapons?

He leaves the armory and heads toward the assigned meeting place.

It took a few days to get everything ready for fight. Finding the right people for the job was the hardest part because he had to think of how well each villain would work with one another, their power, and how well they followed orders based on previous missions. Overall, though, Chat Noir’s proud of his plan and his team.

The room quiets when he enters, his team members turning to face him.

He makes eye contact with each one of them individually, running through their names an their abilities. Queen Bee: the power to immobilize anyone she touches, also excellent at coercion. Dark Cupid: true to his name, with a bow and arrow, anyone he strikes becomes filled with hate and will attack their loved ones. Mime: a deadly and famous villain with the ability to mime objects and use them as if they were real. Simon Says: also well-known and deadly, with the ability to make any he makes eye-contact with fall under his command.

“Intelligence says that Lady Wifi is located in a hospital in _arrondissement_ four. The hospital’s serving as a refuge to civilians in need of shelter, though a large population of the civilians are deserters from West Paris. Our main goal today is to kill Lady Wifi, but if you see an opening, take back some of our civilians,” Chat instructs, hands behind his back like he’s seen his father do multiple times. “Now, tell me what your job is.” He points to Simon Says.

“Mime and I will start some ruckus near the hospital to get Lady Wifi’s attention.” Simon Says gestures a hand between the two of them. “We are to take out as many heroes as necessary until she is drawn out.”

Chat Noir’s gaze fixes on Queen Bee.

“I’ll be waiting near Mime and Simon says. When Wifi is vulnerable, I go in and freeze her,” Queen Bee says, eyes glinting with mischief. “Then make a run for it so I don’t get caught.”

Chat Noir nods. “Good. Cupid?”

“While everyone is in a panic over Lady Wifi, I’ll shoot Bubbler—who is likely going to be close to her. He’ll attack Lady Wifi and then it will all be over,” Dark Cupid says.

“And if that doesn’t work, I’ll be watching from the sidelines,” Chat Noir lies. “If it comes to it, I’ll kill her myself.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I was super inspired, and this popped into existence. I probably won't be able to update until after Christmas, but at least you get this. Hope you enjoy!

Things went relatively normal for Marinette over the next couple of days. Or, as normal as they could given the circumstances. She sewed, she cooked, she talked to Nino and Alya. She checked in on Alix couple of times, who was set to be released from the hospital a few days from now. And, as promised, she checked in on Max a couple of times.

But as the days passed, the day she’d been dreading drew closer.

“And that’s it for your weekly report,” Lady Wifi concludes, smiling into the camera. “See you later, East Paris. And stay connected!”

With a wave of her hand, Lady Wifi gets rid of the cameras, blinking the purple circles out of existence. When the cameras disappears, Lady Wifi’s shoulders sag. She rubs at the back of her neck and stretch.

Marinette walks over to her and gives her a cup of water, which she downs instantly.

“Thanks, Marinette,” Alya says, wiping the corners of her mouth.

“It’s no problem,” Marinette says, waving her off. She leads Alya off the set of the filming room and over to her designated chair. Alya collapses into it with a big sigh. “So when’s that announcement going to be played?”

Alya shrugs, looking up at the ceiling. “Probably later tonight after I take a nap. I don’t have the energy to do a broadcast right now.”

Marinette sits down in the chair next to Alya’s—technically it was Nino’s, but he wouldn’t mind—and puts a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Alya, are you sure you’ve been getting enough sleep? You’ve been really tired all week.”

“That’s the thing, girl,” Alya says, sitting up straight and looking at Marinette. She grabs Marinette’s hand off her shoulder and holds it in hers. “I haven’t been able to get much sleep at all. I’ve been…” She stops talking and takes a survey of the room. With a lowered voice she says, “I’ve been having nightmares. Really bad ones.”

This makes Marinette frown. She leans back in her chair, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. “What about?”

Alya puts a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes. “I don’t really know exactly. But Nino’s been getting them, too. We don’t know why.”

“Maybe one of the Akumas you ran into last week did something to you,” Marinette says. “Like that guy you saw. Maybe nightmares are part of his power?”

“Maybe,” Alya says half-heartedly.

Marinette gives Alya a look. “Did you even read the list I gave you? The one I got from Max after you asked me to look into that strange guy?”

“I almost read it,” Alya says, looking guilty. “It’s in a pile somewhere on my desk.”

“Alya!” Marinette says, lightly slapping her friend across the shoulder. “Lady Wifi shirking her duties? Unthinkable!”

The laugh Marinette hoped to get out of Alya is dry and forced. “What can I say? I’ve been really busy this week. Haven’t really had time for it, you know?”

“Alright, that’s it,” Marinette says, getting out of her chair and standing up in front of Alya, hands on her hips. “You’re going to relax today. No buts!” she says before Alya can even open her mouth to object. “Don’t argue, you know you’re not going to be able to help East Paris if you don’t get some rest, and soon. You have to be in tip-top shape to protect us.”

Alya cracks a smile. “Fine. I’ll relax today.” Alya pushes herself out of her chair so that she’s towering over Marinette. “But only if you do, too.”

Marinette’s face falls.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Alya asks, noticing her friend’s mood-shift.

“I can’t today, Alya,” Marinette says quietly. She looks down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m supposed to visit my parents.”

Alya slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Oh, shit, M’, is that today? I totally forgot, I’m so sorry. Forget about relaxing today, I can come with you—”

“No, I’m fine,” Marinette cuts her off abruptly, taking a few steps back. “I’d like to be alone today anyway.”

Alya grimaces. “I’m really sorry, Marinette. I can give you a ride if you want.”

Marinette shakes her head, turning around and walking towards to the door. “No thanks, Lady Wifi. I’ll see you later, okay? Get some rest.”

“Marinette, wait—”

Marinette closes the doors to filming room behind her.

xXx

Grey overcast dulls the colors of the streets of East Paris. Marinette looks up at the sky as she walks. From where she stands, she can barely make out the bordering purple-tinted barrier at the city’s edge. Marinette barely remembers a time when it wasn’t there, locking everyone in Paris away from the outside world.

Marinette was eleven when the barrier first appeared. And in the five years since then, she can still vividly remember the panic on every Parisian’s face she saw. On T.V, she remembers politicians arguing over whether or not they should make attempts to contact the outside world. Some wanted to try to blow up the barrier. Others were already getting used to the idea of being trapped forever and were wondering what to do about getting food and fresh water.

None of their planning ever went anywhere, because about a week later, Hawkmoth rose to power in the West. People had already seen strange abilities popping all over the place, so when Hawkmoth claimed to be able to give people powers, he gained a lot of followers very quickly.

He rewarded those who were loyal by gifting them with strong powers and his strength and numbers grew daily. When he had enough followers, he ordered them to take the city. His villain gang, the Akumas, overthrew the Western half of Paris, declaring it their own territory. They would have gotten the East, too, but the people of the East fought back with their powers and managed to hold off the attackers in the West.

Paris fell into chaos: buildings were blown up, destroyed, and burned, children and families were slaughtered, shops and landmarks were ransacked and vandalized. Thousands died in those first two years. It looked like Hawkmoth and the West was going to overthrow the East.

But then, a hero named Lady Wifi emerged. In the Battle of Singed Wings, as Easterners had taken to calling it, Lady Wifi made her debut against the Akumas. Single handedly, she fought of five of Hawkmoth’s strongest Akumas at the time, using her teleportation ability so quickly that to the Akumas, it looked like she was cloning herself. One of the Akuma’s had a fire ability and panicked, using her flames wildly to try to attack Lady Wifi. The building they were in caught fire and all of the Akumas were killed. Lady Wifi was the only survivor.

From then on, Lady Wifi was seen everywhere, fighting Akumas and rescuing those trapped in West Paris when Hawkmoth began his reign. She easily became East Paris’ favorite hero. Easterners with powers began copying her, rising up to become heroes. For the first time in years, East Paris was, for the most part, safe.

So many buildings were destroyed in the fighting of the first two years, though, that Easterners were forced to banned together to create shelters and safe spaces for people to live and eat in harmony. It wasn’t as safe as before the barrier—which was commonly believed to be created by Hawkmoth—but it was thousands of times better than the Fighting Years.

Marinette stops, realizing she’s been so lost in thought that she almost forgot to stop at her destination.

She looks up at the crumbling building. The golden lettering of her parents’s bakery fell off a long time ago, burned in the fire three years ago to date. What was once a beautiful white building is charred and run-down. Broken glass litters the ground all around the site, so much so that Marinette’s never dared go in.

Marinette sets down the flowers she picked in the park. “Hey, Maman. Hey, Papa. Long time no see.” She stares at the hastily-marked grave stones placed in front of the door: Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng. “Sorry I haven’t come to visit much this year. I’ve been really busy with work at the hospital. I know that isn’t an excuse.”

A cool breeze caresses Marinette’s skin, brushing raven hair over her shoulders. If she closes her eyes, she could imagine it was her mother’s hands caressing her cheeks, brushing back her hair.

“I really miss you both,” Marinette says, voice straining as tears trickle down her face.

She wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. “Well, I better get going. It was nice talking with you both.

Marinette starts to turn around, but something, a movement, catches her eye.

She turns back around. A cat. A stupid cat with black fur and green eyes is perched on the window sill, narrowly avoiding the jagged glass still left in the window frame.

“Hello, little guy,” Marinette says, taking a cautious step forwards. “I haven’t seen one of you around here in a long time.” She puts her hand forward beckoning it forward. “Come on, little kitty. I’ll take care of you. I’ll bring you back to the hospital and get you a nice bowl of milk. Does that sound nice?” It wouldn’t be fresh milk because there was no way to get any, but she could probably ask the scavengers to find her some milk powder.

The cat blinks at her, slowly, and then jumps off the window sill into the bakery.

Marinette shrieks, fumbling forward. “Wait, no! Come back! You could get hurt in there!”

She runs up to the bakery’s door and jostles the handle. The door doesn’t budge. She shoves it, slamming into it with her body weight. The door opens just a crack. There’s rubble in front of the door. Marinette slams into the door again and the crack widens, just enough to allow her to slip inside.

“Here, kitty, kitty!” Marinette calls into the bakery.

It’s the first time she’s been in it since it burned down. Pieces of plaster and wooden beams from the ceiling cover the ground. Shards of glass from what used to be the display cases glimmer and shine deviously all over the place. She area is mostly dark, but light streams in through the broken windows, casting strange shadows all over the room.

“Damn it,” Marinette curses. “Where are you little kitty?” she asks quietly. She steps over a rotten wood board, on the tips of her toes to avoid the glass. At the room’s center, the chandelier lies broken.

Slowly, Marinette manages to cross the room without getting hurt. “Kitty?” she calls, stepping into the back hall. At the top of the stairs, there the cat sits. It licks its paw and tilts its head like she’s the most peculiar thing in the world.

Marinette grits her teeth and takes a step up the stairs. She grabs the railing. It wobbles under her weight but holds firm.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” Marinette beckons quietly. She takes another step up. Another.

Then one of the steps breaks beneath her feet and she screams, grabbing onto the railing to keep herself upright. She yanks her foot back, placing it on the step before it that she knows is safe.

She looks up to see the cat climbing the second flight of stairs. “No, no, no! Come back!”

Marinette scrambles up the stairs, being careful to look for unstable boards. She eventually makes to the top. The door to the living room is wide open, one of its hinges broken, leaving the door tilted.

The living room is much worse than the downstairs bakery. There’s a gaping hole in the floor. She swallows as she sees the second floor has a hole, too. If she were to fall through, sh wouldn’t land in her parents’ old bedroom, but the bakery. She’d fall three stories.

The cat, the stupid, stupid, cat, sits on the other side of the hole, all the way on the other side of the living room. She’s going to have to sneak around the hole without falling through. And that’s if the cat sits still. Perfect.

As Marinette creeps closer, shimmying along the wall so she can go around the hole, she wonders if why she’s even here. It’s just a cat, she tries to tell herself. It can get down from here.

But for some reason, Marinette keeps traveling along the circumference of the hole. And she makes it to the other side.

The cat sits there, watching her with its big green eyes. She stoops over and picks it up, cradling the furball in her arms. It nuzzles into her, a rumbling sound stirring in its chest.

“Oh, so now you’re being cooperative,” Marinette grumbles. But she smiles when the cat rubs its head into her neck.

She tucks the cat close to her chest and crosses back to the other side of the room the way she came, holding her breath until she’s sure she’s safe on the other side of the hole.

“Phew,” Marinette sighs. “Isn’t that a relief,” she tells the cat. “Now, let’s get you back to the hospital.”

A light shines brightly in Marinette’s left eye and she squeezes it shut. She stops and looks around, searching for the source of light.

Marinette turns back, stepping closer to the hole. Something she didn’t see when she first looked down at the second floor reflects the light streaming in from the broken windows back at Marinette. She squints. Lying on the floor of her parents’ room is some sort of…orb?

The cat in her arms yowls and bites her hand.

Marinette cries out, stumbling in surprise.

The cat scratches and forces its way out of her arms.

Again, Marinette stumbles. She falls straight into the hole.

xXx

“Queen Bee in position,” says Chat’s earpiece.

“Dark Cupid in position.”

“Simon Says in position.” A pause. “Mime says he’s in position, too.”

“Chat Noir in position,” Chat says quietly from where he sits atop the roof of a building adjacent to the hospital. “Everyone ready?”

There’s a chorus of yes’ across the line.

“Mime, Simon Says, on my mark,” Chat says. “Three.” Chat can hear a few of his team members suck in breaths. “Two.” The line goes silent. “One.”

Right on cue, a building a few blocks away blows up. Smoke spills into the sky and Chat can see the orange-tinted light of the fire from where he sits. “Nice work, Mime,” Chat grins, honestly impressed but the level of destruction he was able to create in a single blow.

He glances below at the hospital. He waits a few minutes, watching, searching for anyone. “Jackpot,” he whispers as Lady Wifi runs out of the hospital.

She snaps her fingers and a purple circle appears beneath her feet. She rides it through the air toward the explosion. Bubbler chases after her, a stream of bubbles propelling him into the air.

“You’ve got Wifi and Bubbler heading your way,” he tells the others.

Queen Bee’s laugh is clear through the ear piece. “I’m ready to freeze her.”

“Simon Says, if things get ugly, we’ll need you to do what you do best,” Chat says.

“I’ll grab any hostages I can,” Simon Says promises.

“I’m switching off my earpiece, now,” Chat Noir says. “I have to be able to focus, and I don’t want to be distracted by any of you. You won’t be able to reach me for a while.”

“Roger, Alley Cat,” Dark Cupid says.

Chat hisses at the nickname and makes a mental note to have a chat with Cupid about it. “Going silent,” Chat says.

He switches off his earpiece.

Chat doesn’t feel bad for lying to his team. He probably should, but he knows they can handle themselves without him. Because he won’t be waiting for a moment to take out Lady Wifi.

That feeling tugs at his chest again, calling to him. Chat stands up and stretches.

With a running start, he leaps off the building, rolling into a practiced summersalt when he lands on the next and using the momentum to catapult himself to the next building.

He follows the pull, being sure to keep low to the rooftops so as not to draw the attention of any unwanted heroes. Hopefully, by now, they’ll all be too distracted with Mime’s handy little bombs to notice a stray black cat in their midst.

Chat Noir races across the rooftops, the wind in his hair a rush of energy. For the first time in a while, he feels free. He almost closes his eyes. And then he remembers why he came here in the first place. Right. He needs to find…whatever it is he needs to find.

He finds himself nearing Notre Dame. It’s been a while since he’s seen it, probably since before the barrier. It’s a lot more damaged than he remembers. He can’t help but feel mournful. He has good memories of visiting Notre Dame with his mother—

Chat clenches his fist, claws digging into his palms.

He has a mission. There’s no time for him to stand around staring at an old church just because his mother used to take him there.

He takes a deep breath, listening to the feeling in his chest. It’s much stronger now. He must be getting close. He jumps, landing atop, from the looks of it, an old school.

He scans the area, trying to find anything out of the ordinary. There’s a park down the street that’s overrun by weeds and flowers. Notre Dame’s across the Seine. Nothing seems too out of the ordinary, other than the fact that he has yet to see a single person up and about.

Is he in the right place? Maybe he took a wrong turn—

His eyes snag on a broken-down building across from the school. A store, maybe?

Chat climbs down from the school, landing on the street below. No, a bakery, he notices upon further inspection.

His heart pounds in his chest. He’s close to finding what he’s looking for. He can feel it.

He walks to the front. The door’s already slightly open.

He manages to squeeze inside. There’s nothing in here but—

Someone from above lets loose a scream.

Chat Noir rushes forward and looks up.

It’s a girl. He’s been looking for a girl. _This_ girl.

Time seems to slow and he stares up in awe, the tug in his chest pulling him to her.

She’s what he’s been looking for.

She’s falling.

Chat Noir jumps, colliding with the girl, holding her in his arms and shielding her as they hit the ground. Pain screams through him, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

The girl on top of him trembles, burying her face in his chest.

He coughs a few times. “You okay? That was some fall.”

The girl glances up at him, bluebell eyes wide with fear.

Their gazes lock and times slows again. This girl. _This_. _Girl_.

She squeals and pushes herself off of him, cheeks pink.

“I’m so sorry!” she squeaks, burying her face in her palms. Her voice sounds like music.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Chat asks, sitting up and looking at the hole in the ceiling. “You just fell three stories. What were you doing up there, anyway?”

“I was rescuing a cat,” she says, blush intensifying. Her eyes flit to the top of his head. His cat ears.

“Ironic,” Chat says, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’ve never seen you around before,” the girl says. “Are you a new superhero?”

“Something like that,” Chat says, standing up. He leans down and offers her his hand.

She looks at it for a moment and then takes it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

He must use a bit too much strength, because she stumbles into his chest. If anyone asks him, Chat Noir will deny that he’s tempted to pull her closer to him.

“I—Um…” the girl starts. “Thank you for saving me.”

She blinks up at him and Chat thinks he’s about to die because, oh boy, she’s freaking adorable. Are those freckles, too? Yeah, he’s dead. One million percent dead.

“Y—” Chat swallows. “You’re welcome.”

The two stare at each other longer than they probably should.

“Well,” the girl says, backing away. “I should get going. Thank you again for saving me.”

She turns around and heads toward the door. She slips through it.

No. No, she can’t leave him. He just found her. No!

“Wait!” He yells, running out the door and after her.

The light from outside is bright. The girl turns around and yep, holy shit, those are freckles. In the light, her long black hair seems all the more beautiful.

“You can’t leave,” Chat Noir says, stepping closer.

The girl’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry?"

“You can’t leave,” Chat repeats, more firmly this time. “I just found you.”

The girl backs up, eyes widening. “What are you talking about?”

Chat bites his lip and looks away. “Look, I’m really sorry about this.”

“What—”

Chat grabs her, using his baton to propel himself to the rooftops. He slings the girl over his shoulder and sprints, all the while she slams her tiny fists into his back.

“What the hell are you doing?” she screams at him. “Let go of me! Put me down!”

He should do what she says, there’s no reason to bring her back to West Paris with him. She’s just a civilian. She probably doesn’t have any powers given she hasn’t used them to try to stop him yet. What is he doing?

But there’s a part of him that feels like if he lets her go, he’s going to regret it.

Chat Noir tightens his grip on her, dodging her kicks and blocking out her punches.

He doesn’t say anything all the while she screams at him.

The smoke in the sky slams him back into reality. The mission. Crap. How long has it been?

He presses a button on his earpiece and his ears nearly bleed.

“Chat Noir! Where the _hell_ are you?” Queen Bee screeches. “We need your help, I don’t know, _about ten minutes ago_!”

“Slow down, what’s going on?” Chat asks.

“Uh, you’re kidnapping me!” the girl on his shoulder growls.

He ignores her.

“More heroes showed up, dumbass. Where are you? You said you’d be watching.”

“I was…a bit preoccupied.”

“With what?” Simon says growls.

“Just tell me where you are,” Chat says, getting impatient. “I’ve got a plan.”

“Oh, so _now_ he tells us!” Dark Cupid yells.

“Your location?” Chat hisses.

“Fine,” Queen Bee says. Then, “We’re right where we said we’d be, unlike some people!”

“On my way,” Chat Noir says, turning off his earpiece.

“You’re a villain, aren’t you,” the girl says. It’s not a question. “Oh, I am such an idiot!”

“The name’s Chat Noir,” he purrs, feeling a grin take over. “What’s yours?”

“None of your business, criminal,” she fires back, slamming a fist into his back.

“Fine. I’ll just call you Princess, then,” he says. “Hold on tight.”

He jumps off the roof and onto the pavement below.

Princess jerks, struggling in his grip. Without warning, he lifts her off his shoulder, placing her on the ground. Before she can get any ideas, he pulls her flush against him, her back pressed against his chest. He wraps his left arm around her waist as tightly as he can without hurting her.

“You’re going to cooperate, got it?” he says, mouth centimeters away from her ear. She shivers.

“Why would I listen to you?”

He focuses his power into his right hand, tendrils, black and wispy licking at the air like flames. Concentrated bad luck. He calls it a Cataclysm.

He can tell the exact moment when she sees his hand because she stiffens.

“I can destroy anything I touch. Wanna change your answer?” he asks. Not that he’d use his power on her. But she doesn’t know that.

She nods.

“Is that a yes, you want to change your answer, or yes, you’ll cooperate?”

“I’ll cooperate,” Princess whispers.

“Wonderful,” he says, letting the bad luck fade away. “Just come with me.”

He lets go of her waist and grabs her wrist. He starts down the street, pulling her after him.

“Slow down, I can’t keep up,” she complains.

“You keep up or I carry you again.”

She quickens her pace.

They rounds the corner.

Shit.

His team members are surrounded by heroes, pinned against a burning building. Queen Bee hides behind Dark Cupid, who aims his bow and arrow threateningly at the group of heroes. He only has two arrows left. Simon Says’ eyes are bleeding. He won’t be able to use his power without eye contact and none of the heroes are stupid enough to look. Mime seems stuck using his power to give himself a splint. He can’t mime more than one thing at a time.

How did they let things get so out of hand?

“It’s over, villains,” Lady Wifi says to his team, hands confidently on her hips. “Turn yourselves in and this can end.”

Chat Noir feels a growl building up. He won’t let that happen. If he comes back with less than a full team, Father will skin him alive.

He once again pulls Princess to himself, calling up a Cataclysm.

Princess shrieks and five heroes turn in unison.

“Wifi, Wifi, Wifi,” Chat Noir says, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. “It’s stupid of you to think that villains don’t always have a back-up plan.”

Lady Wifi’s eyes widen. “You! You were the one at the border last week. You—”

Chat Noir feels like trembling in the face of all these heroes. He knows them by name, his father having drilled it into his head for years: Lady Wifi, Bubbler, Princess Fragrance, Reflekta, Stoneheart.

But he has to keep his cool or everything is going to go up in smoke.

“Enjoy the nightmares?” Chat smirks.

When she flinches, he knows he’s hit a nerve.

“Isn’t bad luck just the coolest power,” he says, holding his right hand dangerously close to Princess. “Too much of it on one person, and they suffer horrible nightmares. Too much of it one place?” He holds up his hand. “And it can turn deadly.”

For the first time, Lady Wifi seems to notice the trembling girl in his arms.

“Marinette!” she screams.

The other heroes gasp, glancing at each other with worry.

Marinette. So that’s her name. It’s beautiful, just like her.

He feels guilty that he needs to use her this way, but this has to be done.

“So you know this girl?” Chat Noir says, his voice level. “Sorry, but I’ve grown a bit attached to her. I think I’m going to keep this one if you don’t mind.”

Bubbler glares daggers at him. “Let her go, _right now_!”

He charges forward and Chat Noir moves his hand closer to Marinette’s neck.

“Temper, temper, now,” Chat Noir says. “Wouldn’t want me to accidentally touch her, now would we?”

“Stay back, Nino,” Marinette hisses. “I’m fine.”

Bubbler shakes with rage but stays back.

“Now,” Chat says. “Here are my terms. You let me and my team go back to the West and I promise not to hurt Marinette, here, when we take her there.”

“No deal,” Princess Fragrance says. “We’re not leaving without her.”

“Take it or leave it,” Chat Noir says flatly. “She lives or she dies. Your choice.”

If this was a normal hostage situation, the heroes would have figured out a new plan by now. But they look conflicted. Especially Lady Wifi. Further proof that she and Marinette are close.

He hopes they don’t call his bluff.

“We accept your terms,” Lady Wifi says, looking pained. “Just…don’t hurt her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” This time, it’s the truth. “Come on,” he says to his team. “We’re done here.”

Queen Bee laughs, flipping off Lady Wifi as she passes. The others follow suit, simply walking passed the heroes without a fight. The heroes grit their teeth and watch.

“Let’s go now,” Chat says, holding Marinette close, not letting his guard down. “We don’t want to keep Hawkmoth waiting.”

He positions Marinette on his shoulder once again but stops when Lady Wifi asks, “You’re taking her to Hawkmoth?”

Chat Noir looks over his shoulder. Now’s his chance. “Shouldn’t a son say hello to his father once in a while?”

Lady Wifi gapes and Chat regrets that he has to turn around.

“I’m Chat Noir, by the way,” he says.

And then he starts to run.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back with a new chapter. Yay! Sorry it's a bit late, I've been pretty busy lately. This chapter is probably fluffier than you were expecting, so just know the angst is going to come in the next chapter. I didn't read through this chapter yet, so if there are a few mistakes, just know I'll fix them soon. I was too excited to give you guys an update because you seem so excited about this fic. Anyway, that's enough of me. I hope you enjoy.

After a while, Marinette gives up trying to get free. Nothing she does makes Chat Noir loosen his grip in the slightest. Besides, Westerners, it seems, have an affinity for traveling by rooftop. Even if she were to escape, there’s a very high likelihood she’s end up splattered on the pavement below.

Between being taken to West Paris, and a high chance of falling off a roof, Marinette _almost_ chooses the latter. But the look on Alya’s face when she saw that Marinette had gotten kidnapped stops her. 

Even if she is taken to the West, Marinette is confident that Lady Wifi is going to rescue her. It gives her some hope, but not much. She should trust in Alya’s skills. But Chat Noir said she was being taken to Hawkmoth.

A chill runs down Marinette’s spine at the name. She’s going to meet Hawkmoth. In the flesh.

_Shouldn’t a son say hello to his father once in a while?_

Max had been right when he said that the strange villain Alya and Nino had seen last week could be Hawkmoth’s son. Chat Noir, son of Hawkmoth.

She feels like such an idiot for trusting him. Yes, he did save her life when she fell down after that cat bit her. But she should have realized. What business would a superhero have being in her parents’ bakery?

The only explanation she can think of is that West Paris somehow found out about her friendship with Alya and sent Chat Noir to kidnap her to get some sort of edge over Lady Wifi.

Marinette bites her lip, feeling her cheeks heat. And to think, when Chat Noir had saved her, she’d thought he was cute.

_No. Bad Marinette. He’s not cute. So what if he has really pretty eyes, and silky blond hair that you’d just love to run your fingers through—_

She cuts herself off before she can finish the thought and tries to ignore the fact that she can feel the toned definition of his muscles beneath her as he runs.

Marinette’s jolted from her thoughts when she’s suddenly lifted from Chat Noir’s shoulder and nestled in his arms, bridal style. She blinks at the new position, resisting the urge to snuggle up against his chest.

She looks up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face.

His lips are set into a firm line and his completely green eyes—no doubt from contacts—are filled with determination. His jawline could cut glass. Honestly, it should be a sin to be this handsome. He’s a completely blemish free, too. On the face, at least. She can’t tell about the rest of him because of the skin-tight leather suit.

_Shouldn’t a villain have more scars?_ Marinette wonders.

“Kind of new to this villain thing, to be honest,” Chat Noir says quietly. It’s only then that Marinette realizes she’d spoken out loud.

Chat Noir glances down at her.

Damn it. Marinette has too much pride in her to admit her talking out loud was an accident.

“Whatever you say, son of Hawkmoth,” she says, forcing herself to glare and look away.

His breath catches and Chat Noir huffs. “I know your opinion of me right now is really low, Marinette, but I promise I’m telling the truth. I’ve only been out on the field once before.”

Anger flares in Marinette’s chest, all heat and energy. “First, you don’t have the right to call me by my name. And second, what makes you think I’ll ever believe anything you say ever again?”

Is she dreaming or does he seem hurt? Whatever it is, it fades as quickly as it appears.

“I saved your life you know,” he says in a hushed voice. “One would think you’d have a little gratitude.”

“You saved me. So what? Are you telling me it wasn’t just because you wanted to kidnap me?” Marinette grits her teeth, fighting the urge to run her nails down his cheek. He’d have one scar, at least. But something tells her attacking the dangerous villain with the power to destroy what he touches would be a bad idea. Especially since he’s carrying her.

Chat Noir chuckles darkly and Marinette’s heart skips a beat. He licks his lips. “You really can’t tell, can you?”

Marinette’s eyebrows knit together. “Can’t tell what?”

Chat Noir shakes his head, grip tightening. If possible, they’re pressed even closer together.

He doesn’t say anything else.

Marinette’s about to open her mouth to ask what the heck he was talking about when she’s reminded of the presence of the other villains around them.

The girl villain—the one with the blond hair and yellow and black-striped suit—jumps, landing next to Chat Noir.

The grin she gives Marinette makes her want to puke all over the girl’s shiny black heels.

“That was an impressive speech, Chat Noir,” Blondie says coolly, puffing out her chest and batting her lashes. She completely ignores Marinette, only speaking to cat-themed villain.

Chat Noir grunts, eyes fixed ahead of them as he runs. “I guess.”

“Oh, you’re being too modest,” Blondie says with a flippant wave of the hand. “Take all the credit. You deserve it. I was amazing, of course, but you really but that _Wifi_ girl in her place,” she says, practically gagging at the word ‘wifi’.

A muscles in Chat Noir’s cheek twitches and his eyes flit to Blondie and back in front of him with disinterest. “Uh-huh. That’s nice.”

Either Blondie’s an idiot, or she doesn’t care about Chat Noir’s blatant dismissal because she keeps on yapping away. Marinette has a feeling it’s the former.

Marinette tunes her out after the first minute or so, keeping her mind busy by trying to count every chimney they pass. She has to do what she can to keep her focus off of what lies ahead for her. West Paris. Hawkmoth. She doesn’t even want to think about the possibility of torture.

“What _is_ this piece of fashion trash, anyway?” Blondie asks. It takes Marinette a second to realize Blondie’s talking about _her_.

Marinette’s face burns and she has to force herself to not look down at her outfit. As much work as Marinette puts into making hero costumes for Alya, Nino, and the others, she can’t find time to put the same amount of work in her own wardrobe. Her clothes are plain and boring: a simple cotton t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and some tennis shoes. To make matters worse, what was once in mint condition is no thread-bare with stains from cooking and Marinette’s other duties. She doesn’t have time to be bothered with an unkempt appearance these days, she’ll end up a mess by the end of the day even if she does make the extra effort to look nice.

Marinette hates that her cheeks heat. She instantly hates the bee-villain. One look at her uniform tells Marinette the girl’s probably never worked a day in her life. She doesn’t know what it’s like to pick through broken homes after a huge villain fight in search of survivors. She doesn’t know what it’s like seeing starving Westerner survivors cross the border looking like death came early. She doesn’t know what it’s like hearing children crying at all hours of the day because their mothers don’t have enough food to feed them.

Then again, West Paris is the reason for all of that. Who knows, Blondie might see things like that every day and decide to pass by and ignore it.

“And what is that awful smell? Hasn’t it ever heard of a bath?” Blondie pinches her nose, her words nasally.

_That’s it, this girl is going down,_ Marinette thinks.

Chat Noir opens his mouth to respond but Marinette cuts her off.

“Of course I have,” Marinette says, putting a hand over her heart and feigning offense. “But I don’t think I can say the same for you. You’re supposed to wash yourself with water, not perfume.”

Blondie lets loose an offended gasp. “How dare you speak to me that way! Do you know who I am?”

“Not a clue,” Marinette says honestly. “Why? Are you supposed to be someone important?”

Blondie’s eyes widen, brows raising in outrage. “Chat Noir, do something about this brat! She needs to learn her place.”

Marinette swallows but stands her ground. There’s no way Chat Noir would do anything like that, right? He’d promised Alya he wouldn’t hurt her. He’s—

Marinette blinks.

Chat Noir is biting his lip, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Well?” Blondie asks, still glaring at Marinette.

Chat Noir bursts out laughing.

“Oh, man!” he says, grinning ear to ear. “She got you good, didn’t she. You know, Princess, I’m starting to like you more and more.”

Marinette’s lips form a small, reserved, smile.

By now, the other villains are looking back at the three of them, probably wondering what all the noise is about.

Blondie huffs and turns her head, flicking Marinette in the face with the back of her long ponytail. “Whatever. I’m going to run ahead. At least up there I can get away from the fish smell.”

Blondie speeds up and runs ahead with the rest of the villains, leaving Marinette and Chat Noir by themselves.

Even once she’s gone, Marinette can still feel Chat Noir shaking with laughter.

And that’s when she feels it. The tug in her chest. Only this time it’s not a tug. There’s something in her that’s _yanked_ toward—

She sucks in a breath. Toward Chat Noir.

She looks up at him, his half-smile as he pretends not to laugh and the humorous twinkle in his green eyes.

Oh. _Oh_. He’s what she’s been looking for. He’s why she wanted to go to the West. He’s her answer.

_No_ . Marinette shakes her head. No, it had to be a mistake. Some sort of villain trick. The pull inside her was _good_. At least, that’s the way it had always felt. There’s no way it was leading her to Chat Noir. He’s evil, and bad, and a villain, and the son of Hawkmoth, and so many other things. He kidnapped her! He can’t be the one.

But the pull inside of her is begging for her to hold onto Chat Noir and never let go.

Marinette bites the inside of her cheek. She can’t afford to think like that. So what if he’s what she’s been looking for. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t need to escape. He’s a villain. He’s Hawkmoth’s _son_ , for crying out loud. She can’t let herself forget that.

She forces herself not to look up at Chat Noir. Because she wants to. She wants so badly to forget everything but him. But that can’t happen.

Her number one priority should be escaping. Because if Chat Noir is the person she’s been searching for, that means West Paris isn’t. She’s only heard stories from refugees, Alya, and the other heroes. They were never good stories either. Only the kind with destruction, pain, blood, death.

Max doesn’t like to talk about it much, but from what he said, for villains, West Paris was an endless party, a rush of energy. Stealing from citizens left trapped in West Paris after the barrier appeared, he said, is a common pastime.

The worst, though, Max said, were the arena fights. West Paris, from what Marinette has gathered, is centered completely on power. The more powerful your ability, the higher your social standing. That’s what makes Hawkmoth their leader: he’s so powerful that he gives powers to others. And with this social dynamic rose a system to prove yourself and get a chance to rise up the social ranks: arena fights. Marinette doesn't know exactly what they're about, but she has a few guesses. Max would never say what happened at them.

Marinette desperately hopes that she doesn't have to find out.

xXx

Chat Noir’s heart beats so loudly he can feel it in his ears. Every movement, every breath Marinette takes, sets him on edge.

God, when she mouthed off Queen Bee, it took everything in him not to spin Marinette around and pull her close. Maybe even kiss— 

His jaw clenches. What the hell is wrong with him? An hour ago, he hadn’t ever seen this girl in his life. And now she’s all he can think about. For a brief moment, he wonders if it could be her power. He’s seen stranger before. But he’s felt the tug for a lot longer than he’s known her. Not to mention, he’s been too far away for her to use her power on him.

Plus, if she has some kind of alluring power, wouldn’t she have used it on the rest of his team, too? Or used it to persuade him to let her go?

No, whatever he feels for her is his own. Probably.

And no matter what's causing him to feel so attached to her, one thing’s for sure: his father is going to murder him.

When the rest of his team reports in on the mission, it’s game over for him. He wasn’t at his post, like he said he was going to be. While it might not have been so bad if everything went according to plan, it was going to be ten times worse when his teammates tell Father that it was the reason they failed.

_I won’t let you down_ , he told his father. Hah. What a joke.

Not only did Chat not capture Lady Wifi, but he disappeared in the middle of a mission, turned off his earpiece, and barely come back in time to keep the team from being captured by Lady Wifi. And even that was a matter of chance because he hadn’t known at the time that Marinette was friends with Lady Wifi.

And then there was Marinette. There isn’t really a way to explain how he ended up capturing her. He can’t tell his father he was just exploring East Paris because one, that was stupid, and two, he wouldn’t have known who Marinette was or her relationship to Lady Wifi before the fight.

He imagines telling his father the truth instead. Chat almost snorts. Yeah, that would go over well. ‘Hey, father. Just wanted to let you know that for the past month, I’ve been feeling this weird tug in my chest telling me to go to East Paris, so I lied to you about having a plan to kill Lady Wifi so I could look around and search for whatever was pulling me. Turns out it’s this young girl I’ve never met before that has no powers and is essentially useless to you. And guess what? I botched the mission so I could find her. Lady Wifi may still be alive, but hey, I brought you a random girl!’.

Chat Noir will just have to play it by ear and hope his father is feeling generous today.

A little while later, the team finally made it to the border. When Chat Noir crossed into West Paris, his shoulders sagged. They aren’t in danger anymore. They’re safe.

He’s home.

The opposite happens to Marinette. The closer they get to the Louvre, the more she stiffens. She trembles in his arms and he feels sick to his stomach.

But there was no way he would have left her behind. She's too important to him.

When they finally make it to the Louvre, Chat Noir feels a wave of dread wash over him.

He walks up the the Louvre, the plaza tinted orange and red as the sun slowly sets on the horizon behind the barrier.

Villains and criminals alike mingle in the plaza, vendors having set up booths of stolen trinkets for customers to buy. There’s a bonfire lit to the right of the pyramid, villains dancing around it, drinking liquor and partying. A few talented villains with more showy powers are scattered throughout the area, showing off with wisps of beautiful flames or sparkling showers of gems forged into shapes.

Chat Noir watches the dancers for longer than usual. Some of their spinning is more akin to stumbling. He forgets how often the people here get drunk.

His grip tightens on Marinette. She doesn’t seem to notice.

His father’s guards stand in a row, at attention guarding the plaza’s entrance.

The head guard, a man named Dark Knight, fully decked out in medieval knight apparel, steps forward to examine Chat's team. Normal partygoers don’t get examined. But they’re a fighting unit. They cross the border. And you can never be too careful.

Dark Knight’s gaze lands on Marinette and Chat Noir get the impression that he’s raising his eyebrow beneath his helmet.

“And who is this?” he asks, dipping his head in Marinette’s direction.

“A hostage,” Chat says easily.

Dark Knight’s silent for a moment, probably assuming Chat Noir will elaborate. He doesn’t.

“Would you like to have her escorted to a prison? I can have some of my guards take her away,” Dark Knight says. His voice wavers but he stands firm. Chat Noir knows the tone. Being the boss’ son never gets old. People don’t quite know what to do with him, or even what to call him. Once or twice, people have tried to call him a prince. But the title isn’t true. Hawkmoth is just Hawkmoth. He’s not a king. Chat Noir is just his son.

“No,” Chat says, shaking his head. “I’m taking her to my father. He’ll be very interested in hearing what she is.”

“What about us?” Dark Cupid asks. “Are we supposed to wait around for you and your old man to talk? We did most of the fighting today. We didn’t even beat Wifi, we just—”

“Report in with Malediktator,” Chat Noir instructs, leveling Cupid with a glare. He shrinks under Chat’s gaze. “Tell him about the mission and await further instruction. I need to speak with my father.”

“Yes, sir.” Simon Says salutes, Mime mimicking the gesture. It seems more mocking than respectful but Chat ignores it.

Queen Bee groans. “But I was looking forward to not seeing Daddy today.”

His team leaves, strolling leisurely passed the armed villains guarding the Louvre.

“Do you know where my father is?” Chat Noir asks Dark Knight.

“I believe he’s in his study with Style Queen and Ikari Gozen.”

Chat Noir nods, stepping into the plaza.

A hand grips his shoulder and it takes Chat a second to realize it’s Marinette. She clings to him, fingers digging into his shoulders. Her head darts back and forth as the crowd of villains parts for the. Or, him, rather.

With every step he takes, whispers follow him. For once, they’re not about him. Everyone’s staring at Marinette.

But one whisper in particular catches his attention.

“Don’t tell me he’s finally brought home a whore.”

Chat Noir sees red but he keeps his poker face.

He finds the face to the voice in the crowd and imagines slitting the woman’s throat. His fingers twitch as he unleashes his ability. He barely uses any of his power, bad luck gently trickling out from him. It finds its target and latches on.

A second later, the newly-cursed villain trips, knocking into other people, creating a domino affect of criminals. If he wasn’t so angry, Chat would laugh.

Marinette flinches, blinking repeatedly. He catches her looking at him through his periphery, raising an eyebrow.

He bites his lip and pretends not to notice.

As much as Chat Noir doesn’t want to, he knows he needs to quit stalling.

With Marinette still in his arms, he walks into the Louvre in search of his father.

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter isn't as exciting as the last one, but I got too hooked on the fluff and just ran with it. Tell me what you like best. Any theories? Let me know if you have ideas for what you want to see in this fic. I have a general map of where this is going, but if I see a particularly intriguing suggestion, I could end up putting it in the fic if it works. So, if you have an idea you like or there's a character from the show you're dying to see, let me know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? Sorry for the hiatus, I've been a bit swamped. I'd like to thank everyone for sticking with me, and hello to everyone who's new. I bring you the next installment of Find Me In The Rubble...

Marinette’s been to the Louvre before. When she was little, before the barrier appeared, her parents took her there often. She used to love all the paintings, the pretty shapes and colors. Even as a little girl, everything was so inspiring. There was so much culture and passion.

Not anymore. Her heart aches as Chat Noir strides through the halls of the Louvre palace, still holding her in his arms. The palace is in shambles and the lights are dim. She can’t tell if it’s purposeful or if they don’t have enough electricity to keep everything running at full power. The paintings and statues, once beautiful and coveted, are broken apart, teared, ripped, even painted over. More villains than she can count amble the halls on the arms of friends. Alcoholic beverages are spilled across the floor, trash and garbage strewn everywhere, but no one seems to care.

Many costumed villains have found their way in pairs and are pressed up against the walls. Marinette averts her eyes as one such couple lets out a moan, bumping and grinding in a way that makes her cheeks heat. Chat Noir doesn’t bat an eye at any of it. It’s like he doesn’t even notice it’s there.

Blaring music pounds in Marinette’s ears and she flinches in time with the beat.

She thought she was handling things pretty well for being kidnapped. She felt pretty confident after the way she did that verbal take-down on Blondie. But when she saw the Louvre, her confidence completely drained.

As strange as it is, Marinette feels more comfortable in Chat Noir’s arms than she would if she had to walk alongside him. At least this way, the villains around can’t hurt her.

Chat Noir turns down the hall, nearly getting run over by a group of partygoers. 

The laughter stops as recognition spreads across the face of one of the guys in the group. His eyes widen and he whispers something to the rest of his friends. The partygoers look nervously amongst themselves and step to the side, parting to let Chat Noir through.

_Villains seem to do that a lot, around here_ , Marinette thinks. The same happened earlier in the plaza, villains clearing the way for them. They’d started to whisper, too.

That’s when Chat Noir used his power. Marinette isn’t sure how she knew that he used it—he hadn’t shown any outward signs of it—she just did. She just…sensed it. The feeling of his power was strange and confusing. So much so that when she felt it, she couldn’t keep her expression blank. She’s just glad he didn’t notice her staring at him.

Marinette swallows, her stomach turning as another group of partygoers passes the two of them. They laugh and down their drinks, a few of the drunk ones swaying side to side. She tightens her grip on Chat Noir to keep herself from trembling any more than she already is.

“Act like I’m threatening you.”

Marinette startles. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Chat Noir’s lips move close to her ear, just a breath away.

“Perfect,” he whispers, he voice barely carrying over the music. “Just like that. I know you don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you, but you have to listen to me. I’m going to keep walking and pretend to threaten you. All you have to do is look scared and keep quiet. Got that?”

She opens her mouth to say yes, but he cuts her off. “Squeeze my shoulders once for yes, twice for no.”

She squeezes once.

“Okay,” he says. “There’s a lot I need to tell you, but there’s not much time, so just roll with whatever I do. I’m trying to keep you alive. When we’re through this, I’ll explain later.”

Her fearful expression isn’t entirely fake. One glance around around the crowded halls of the Louvre is all she needs. She throws in a glance or two up at Chat Noir for good measure.

He chuckles, low and deep in his chest. “Good acting, Princess. Now, here’s the important part, so pay attention. When I bring you to my father, I’m going to lie. You’re job is to play along and pretend everything I’m going to say is true. If you don’t, my father will kill you.”

Marinette’s blood turns could, her limbs to stone. His father. Hawkmoth.

“That’s not a threat,” Chat Noir rushes to say. “I’m not trying to force you to play along. I’m letting you know what’s at stake. Do you understand?”

She stops herself from responding out loud. She squeezes his shoulders once.

Chat Noir sighs in relief. “Good.” 

They near the end of a hallway and the music finally starts to fade.

“We can’t talk here,” Chat Noir says. “Remember: play along. I promise I’ll explain everything.”

He pulls his mouth away from her ear, his lips setting into a firm line.

Chat Noir turns down a much nicer hallway. Marinette’s breath almost catches. This part of the Louvre is still intact. It’s completely trash-free, the paintings and art projects still in mint condition. Even the lighting of this hall is brighter. And there are a lot less people.

In fact, the only other people in the hallway besides her and Chat Noir seem to be guards of some kind. They’re stationed every couple of yards on opposite sides of the wall. They barely look at her and Chat Noir as they pass.

Marinette’s heart beats faster with every step Chat Noir takes. She can feel it in her fingertips.

When Chat Noir stops in front of a door. Instead of opening it, he sets Marinette down. She teeters, her balance off from having been carried for so long.

Marinette doesn’t dare leave his side. She’s not stupid enough to try running away in the heart of West Paris’ capitol. She’d be swarmed and killed. Her only hope of getting out is to wait for Alya to come rescue her. But who knows how long that will take. There’s never been a direct hero assault on such a crowded location. Getting out is going to be tricky. If it isn’t already impossible.

Chat Noir raises a fist and taps his knuckles against the door.

A few moments later, the door opens.

A women dressed in all blue stands in the entryway: dark blue floor-length dress, light blue skin-tight leggings, dark blue heeled boots, light blue gloves. Blue, blue, blue. She has a feather head-piece, a giant plume covering the better half of the left side of her face. She has shortly-cropped night-black hair and blue eyes.

She arches an eyebrow, ever so slightly, when she see Marinette. Marinette takes the tiniest step back, averting her gaze from the peacock-styled villain. Marinette really, really, doesn’t want to know what her power is. She gets the feeling that no one who crosses this women makes it out alive.

Peacock-lady looks back to Chat Noir. Her posture perfect and her glitzy blue makeup is immaculate. 

“Adrien,” She tips her head towards Chat Noir. “I’m surprised to see you back so early. I take it the mission wasn’t a success, then?”

Chat Noir lifts his chin, arms crossing over his chest. “It didn’t go as planned. But I brought father back something he might like.” He nods his head toward Marinette.

Marinette decides that she does _not_ like the way Mayura looks her up and down, blue-tinted lips curling in disgust.

“Your father has no interest in whores, Chat Noir,” Mayura spits, and Marinette detects a hint of some unnamed emotion. Hatred? Maybe even jealousy. “If you failed your mission, own up to it. Don’t try buying his affection.”

Chat Noir grips the end of his belt-tail, lazily spinning it in circles. “Funny. Because I can’t remember a time when he didn’t try to buy mine.”

She shouldn’t be here. Marinette shouldn’t be surrounded by villains in the heart of West Paris standing next to what she can only guess to be some of the most powerful villains that ever lived, judging by their closeness to Hawkmoth. And she _really_ shouldn’t be listening into this conversation.

Even though she’s being forced to be here, Marinette still feels like she’s intruding.

“Now, as I was saying,” Chat Noir continues. “She’s not a whore. This sweet thing,” Marinette flinches as Chat Noir grips her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “is a friend of Lady Wifi.”

Chat Noir lets her go and Marinette’s jaw clenches.

Mayura does a double take, interest flashing in her eyes. “I take it you want to show your prize to your father?” She turns back to face Chat Noir, the feather-like edges of her dress flaring out gracefully. “He’s in a meeting right now. You’ll have to come back later. In the mean time, I can take her for you. I’ll make sure she stays put.”

Mayura steps toward Marinette, heels clicking. But Chat Noir positions himself in front of her, a hand reaching behind him to grab Marinette by the arm. He latches on tightly, angled in a way that Mayura can’t see.

Marinette’s barely tall enough to see over the tops of Chat Noir’s shoulders. And even then, it’s a bit of a struggle.

“Come one, Nathalie,” Chat Noir says, voice sweet, almost playful. It’s the opposite of his grip. “Please? You know I’ll just find another way in.”

Mayura purses her lips, folding her hands in front of her. Her gaze softens. “Fine. But just this once. Do you need help detaining her? We wouldn’t want such an important hostage to escape.”

Chat Noir’s grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go.

“Thanks, Nathalie, but I’ll be fine,” Chat Noir says, pulling Marinette through the doorway and into the room beyond.

Mayura shuts the door behind them, the women in blue walking over to a desk in the back corner and sitting down in front of a surprisingly new-looking computer. To the left of the desk is a set of closed double-doors. 

_That must be Hawkmoth’s study_ , Marinette thinks, recalling what the knight-villain said in the Louvre’s plaza.

Chat Noir lets go of her arm. Marinette stares around the room. It’s even fancier than the hallway. Everything is dripping in jewels, glimmering with riches, wonderful art pieces hang in every available space. Velvety red curtains obscure a window across the room.

“Pretty nice, right?”

Marinette almost jumps when Chat Noir addresses her again.

“The room,” he clarifies, holding up a clawed finger. “I saw East Paris for the first time today. It was in shambles. I’m guessing you’ve never seen a room this nice before.”

Marinette glances at Mayura, the women typing away at the computer. Distracted.

“No,” Marinette admits, keeping her voice low. “I haven’t.” Her cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. Why the hell is she embarrassed? So what if she lives in East Paris? And so what if it’s not as nice as this. That’s not her fault. Anger flares in her and she can’t bite back her retort. “Kind of hard to with villains running around destroying things, you know?”

_Crap, what did I just do?_ _I probably offended him, and now I’m going to be locked up forever and die alone in a dirty jail cell. Then, my body will be shipped back to Alya_ — 

“Sounds hard,” Chat Noir says, frowning. “You must be pretty brave to live through stuff like that.”

That’s not the reaction she expected.

“Your father will see you now,” Mayura says, not looking up from her computer.

Chat Noir’s muscles go tight, the friendly glimmer she’d seen in his eyes moments ago vanishing.

“Follow,” he says in a low voice. He walks toward the doors to Hawkmoth’s office.

She does as she’s told, even if it goes against every instinct in her body screaming at her to run and run far.

It’s time to meet Hawkmoth.

xXx

“—telling you, Hawkmoth, something has to be done about them. It’s not just Lady Wifi—the little insects are everywhere. They’re stealing our citizens! If anymore are taken, I’ll be short on servants. What am I supposed to do? Clean my own house?”

_Here we go_ , Chat thinks as he steps into the room, Marinette in tow.

Across the room, Style Queen leans over his father’s desk, having abandoned her chair in favor of standing, arms crossed over her chest. Ikari Gozen sits as per usual, the epitome of calm. Those who didn’t know the two ferocious women would say Style Queen was the one with to fear. After all, she’s incredibly vocal in her distaste for, well, everything. Chat learned early on that Ikari Gozen was really the one to fear more. She uses her blindness to her advantage to make herself seem weak, but in reality she's as devious as a cobra with the strength of a dragon.

“And another thing,” Style Queen continues, her golden-heeled foot tapping the floor. “I want more soldiers. The ones you gave me are incompetent. They’re ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.”

Chat Noir slowly closes the door behind him and Marinette but doesn’t dare speak up. They haven’t been noticed yet and he sure as hell isn’t going to draw attention to them if he doesn’t have to. Thankfully, Marinette takes the hint and stays quiet, too.

“Audrey,” says Hawkmoth. “This is the third batch of soldiers you’ve rejected in a row. I can’t keep sending you new ones or we’ll soon run out of our own.”

“That’s not my problem,” Style Queen huffs, turning up her nose. “All I’m asking for is a group of soldiers that are worth my time. Is that too hard to ask? No!” Style Queen pivots slightly and looks down to Ikari Gozen. “What do you think about all of this? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I think Style Queen is right,” Ikari Gozen says, fingers tightly gripping her bokken. “We need more well-trained soldiers to fight the East. It’s been years, Hawkmoth. We should’ve taken East Paris long ago.” She pauses, and for a moment Chat thinks she’s done. But then she turns around in her seat. “Don’t you agree Chat Noir?”

Chat feels like a deer in headlights as Style Queen whips around and his father’s gaze finds him.

Busted.

He clears his throat, feeling Marinette stiffen beside him. “Father, ladies,” he nods politely to each of them. “I’m sorry to intrude, but it’s important.”

Stepping forward, Chat ignores Style Queen’s stare and walks up to his father. Marinette follows behind, but stays a few feet away, averting her eyes.

Hawkmoth catches the movement, gaze hitching on Marinette.

“And who’s this?” he asks slowly, dangerously.

“She’s Lady Wifi’s friend,” Chat says, fighting the urge to look back at Marinette. His skin crawls, everything in him saying to _get Marinette out of here right now_ . “I found her during the fight with Wifi after we crossed the border and brought her back as a hostage. She was watching the fight like an idiot, so it wasn’t hard.” _Lie_ , his brain shouts. _Lie, lie, lie_.

“A friend you say?” Hawkmoth asks, raising an eyebrow. “And why would we have use for her if Lady Wifi is already dead?”

Hawkmoth’s gaze meets his and Chat’s sure he’s dead meat.

He coughs and looks away, unable to hold meet his father’s eyes any longer. “Our mission wasn’t...exactly a success.”

Hawkmoth slams a fist against the desk, sending pens rattling, the room seeming to shudder around him. Chat flinches.

“‘Thank you, Father, I won’t let you down,’” Hawkmoth says, carefully enunciating each syllable. “I believe those were your exact words when you requested permission to lead an assault.”

Chat Noir swallows, forcing his fingers into fists to keep his hands from shaking. _You’re eighteen, damn it. Get a grip, Adrien_.

“And now you show up,” his father continues. “With some worthless _bitch_ and nothing else to show for it.” Chat opens his mouth to argue, anger flaring in his chest. “I’m going to guess you’re about to tell me you even lost a team member—”

“My entire team made it back with minimal injuries,” Chat says, raising his voice. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Father.”

“Are you talking back to me?”

_Yes_.

“No, Sir,” Chat says, backing down. Bad luck thrashes in him, desperately wanting to be unleashed. But he keeps his cool, forcing it back.

He can feel Style Queen’s stare and Ikari Gozen’s silent judgement. He hates both with a passion.

“Then tell me, son, how you think this girl”—Hawkmoth gestures to Marinette, disgust dripping from his voice—“will make up for your _failure_.” 

Failure. His father knows how much he hates that word, despises it. He knows Father just used it to get a rise out of him. It almost works. Almost. But Marinette is more important than his own damn pride right now.

“She’s Lady Wifi’s friend,” Chat says again. “When I realized we didn’t have a chance to win the fight, I nabbed her. She’s a good hostage. As Lady Wifi’s friend, she’s valuable and an asset. Think about it! We have the upper hand now because Wifi won’t risk doing anything that will mean getting Marinette hurt—”

“So that’s her name,” his father interrupts, waving away the rest of Chat’s words. It makes Chat want to scream. “Tell me, Marinette, what do you think of all this?”

Chat’s blood runs cold and he peaks back at Marinette. She looks like a mouse, scared and weak. He almost expects her to squeak.

“M-Me?” she stammers, giving Chat a worried look.

Hawkmoth smiles wryly. “You’ve been kidnapped and taken away from your precious hero friend and now you hear you’re going to be ransomed. How does that make you feel?”

Chat wants to claw his father’s eyes out. This is what Hawkmoth is good at: mind games, power moves. Marinette doesn’t deserve this.

Marinette closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. When she opens them, her gaze is pure steel. “I think you’re an asshole and a terrible father. And I hope you burn in hell for what you’ve done to Paris.”

Then Marinette spits. Right on his father’s desk.

Style Queen gasps. “How _dare_ you?”

Hawkmoth stands up, and points an angry finger at Chat Noir. “I want that wench locked up this instant! Ikari Gozen, put out a warning to East Paris that if we don’t receive payment within the week, this girl will be put in a slaughter house.”

Chat Noir grabs Marinette’s wrist and pulls her away before his father can do anything violent. Marinette doesn't help him, her feet firmly rooted to the floor. Her gaze never leaves Hawkmoth, eyes still sharp.

“Did you hear me?” she yells as Chat Noir forcefully pushes her out the door. “I said I hope you burn in hell!”

Chat Noir slams the door shut, leaving the arguing trio of villains in the room. Mayura stands from her desk and glares at Chat.

“I’ll let the jailers know to expect you,” she says, lips curling in disgust. Clearly, she’d heard the entire thing. Chat hangs his head in shame.

Marinette only stops struggling with him when they enter the hallway.

_Payment within the week or a death sentence_ , Chat thinks as he walks Marinette to the dungeon.

What the hell has he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you have any suggestions or want a scene to be included, leave a comment. I read all of them and they're the biggest inspiration I have to write. Some of you may even see your suggestions come to life in later chapters... Anyway, thanks for sticking with me. I don't know when I'll update next, so please be patient. I promise this series isn't abandoned. I'm planning on staying with it till the end.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, it's been a little bit, but I have returned with a new chapter. It's a bit on the short side, but I couldn't find a reason to make it longer without filling it with random fluff that didn't matter. Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. So much angst, so much romance, I wonder what will happen next? If it seems like there's more mistakes than usual, that's because there probably is. I was too excited to proof read, but I'll go back through and fix it later. I hope you enjoy even with the typos

The normal hush of voices followed by low whispers greets Lady Wifi as she strides into the hospital. People step out of her way as she walks and smile gratefully at her. Under any other circumstances, she would have returned them. But not today.

Today, Lady Wifi lets herself storm down the hall, lips set into a firm line, gaze unrelenting.

She should have listened to Marinette this morning and read the files she got from Max. She should have pushed more and gone with Marinette to see her parents’ grave. Or she should have gone after her when Marinette left. Then, maybe Marinette wouldn’t have been taken by Chat Noir.

Lady Wifi’s teeth grind together. _Shouldn’t a son say hello to his father once in a while?_ Hawkmoth has a son. A son that she didn’t know about until he was kidnapping her best friend. She feels like such an idiot.

“Babe, slow down,” Bubbler says, coming up from behind her. “I know you’re upset about Marinette—”

“Upset?” Lady Wifi glares up at him. “I’m beyond upset. None of this should have happened. I’m a hero. I’m supposed to win no matter what, especially when the stakes are high. I should have known better than to let Marinette out today. I should have tried listened to her—”

“I’m a hero, too,” Bubbler says, lips pressed into a firm line. “And I wasn’t able to help her, either. There’s nothing else you could have done.”

“Oh, yeah?” she says, turning on Bubbler so quickly he fumbles to keep his balance. “Is that what I’m supposed to tell East Paris the next time we fail? ‘Sorry, West Paris wiped us out and destroyed our home, there was just nothing else we could do because we _gave up_ ’.”

“If we’d tried to save Marinette, he would have killed her before we had the chance to get close.” Bubbler crosses his arms over his chest, shifting so he loomed over her even more than usual. “You did the right thing, Al.”

Her fingers curl into fists, shaking with rage and despair. Lady Wifi bites her lip, tears pricking that the corners of her eyes. “He could have been bluffing.”

There’s a long pause before Bubbler replies, “Would you have been willing to take that risk?”

No. No, she wouldn’t. Marinette’s life is worth more than a gamble.

The tears start falling and Bubbler pulls her to his chest, tucking her under him and resting his head on her chin. He whispers to her as she cries, voice calm and soothing. And when the tears finally end and her shoulders stop shaking, he wipes away her tears and kisses her cheeks.

“You look beautiful,” he says quietly. The two of them are nose-to-nose, caramel eyes meeting hazel.

Lady Wifi rolls her eyes, but her cheeks warm all the same. “Dork.”

“We’ll rescue her, Alya. I know we will.” He pulls back, hands on her shoulders. “You wanna know how? ‘Nette’s a tough dudette. She doesn’t have powers, but even _I’m_ scared of her sometimes.”

That gets a giggle out of Lady Wifi. “Yeah. Remember that time those two teenagers got into a fight in the cafeteria and Mari—” Lady Wifi starts to laugh, covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. “When she vaulted over that table just to pull them apart.”

“And then yelled at them for twenty minutes!” Bubbler laughs loud, leaning his head back. “I swear I haven't seen two boys piss their pants so fast in my life. Mari’s a strong girl. She’ll be fine.”

“But still,” Lady Wifi says, looking at the ground. “West Paris. She’s probably so scared. And how are we ever going to be able to get her back?”

“Don’t start overthinking again, Al. We’re taking this one step at a time. Just you and me, right?”

He holds out his fist to her, smiling in that goofy way that makes her want to kiss him senseless.

Lady Wifi knocks her fist against his. “Always.”

“Now lets go find the others. We’ve got a best friend to save and a bunch of villains to defeat.”

xXx

The dungeon isn’t _that_ bad.

Marinette can’t help feeling bad for thinking it, but it’s true. She’d been expecting some deep dank medieval stone box that Westerners had somehow managed to drudge up, but her cell was just a small room about the size of a small walk-in closet. There’s a chair that could fold down into a surface that could work as a bed. Maybe. She hasn’t tried it yet. Other than that, there isn’t anything. The walls are white plaster, the floor concrete. Everything was probably made by a villain with construction powers.

There aren’t windows, so she has no way to tell the time, either. But if she were to guess, it had been about an hour. An hour of nothing. There’s no news on what’s going to happen to her, either.

She doesn’t regret what she said to Hawkmoth. In fact, she feels pretty damn good about it.

Whenever she imagined Hawkmoth in the past, she always thought of him as this dark mysterious villain waiting in the shadows, ready to strike at any moment. She thought he was evil, clever, deadly. But now that she’s seen him, she can safely say that version of Hawkmoth is long gone. Hawkmoth is an asshole and a stuck-up jerk, even rude to his own son. Marinette may not like Chat Noir, but no one deserved to be treated that way by anyone, much less a family member.

Marinette jolts at the knock at the door and sits up from where she’s been lying down on her fold-down chair.

She knows it’s him before she sees him. The pull in her chest gives a big tug as he closes the door behind him after muttering quietly to the guards outside her cell.

It’s quiet, and for a few moments, the two just stare at each other—him with his back pressed to the door, her sitting on her chair.

Chat Noir takes a deep breath. “You feel it too, right?”

Marinette blinks. That is _not_ what she expected him to say.

“This,” Chat Noir continues, taking a single cautious step toward her. “This _thing_ between us. You feel it, right?” His fingers claw at the ends of his blond hair, making his already messy hair even messier. “Because I can’t stop thinking about it and if you’re _not_ feeling it, I think I’m going to go insane.”

He looks to her, chest rising and falling as he pants, green eyes pleading.

“I feel it, too.” She puts a hand on her chest. “It _pulls_ , right?”

Chat Noir’s shoulders slump and he lets out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank god. Because I didn’t know if I was going to be able to pretend I didn’t feel it when I’m around you.”

That _thing_ in her stirs again and Marinette allows herself to stand up. She walks towards Chat Noir, leaving barely a foot between them. His breath hitches as she stares at him, never letting her gaze drop.

Without looking away, she finds his hand, bringing it up between them and lacing her fingers with his. The leather of his gloves is smoother than she expected, his faux claws not as sharp.

She’s so close she can hear him breathing and feel the warmth of it on her skin.

The _thing_ between them dances between their chests, so tangible it feels real.

Marinette’s confidence wavers and she suddenly can’t stand to look into his eyes any longer. She’s a lot shorter than him than she realized, her eyes only coming up to his shoulders. The bell is even sillier up close.

“What is this?” Marinette whispers, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“I don’t know,” he says.

One minute she’s looking away, then next he’s lifting her chin up and his lips are on hers. The _thing_ inside her screams _yes, yes yes_. His mouth is warm and gentle against hers. It’s bliss for about three seconds.

Marinette forces herself to step back, shoving him away. “What the hell?”

Chat Noir stumbles back. “Wha..?” he says, clearly still disoriented.

“Are you kidding me?” Marinette asks, feeling her cheeks heat in response to her anger and embarrassment. “Was this your plan? Kidnap me, lock me up, and then—then _seduce me_ when no one else was around?”

She steps back, bumping into the wall. Her cell is suddenly a lot more cramped than before.

“What?” Chat Noir asks, and then her words must catch up to him because he chokes. “No, no, I swear that’s not it at all! I’d never—I’m not that type of person—”

“Oh, yeah?” Marinette says, crossing her arms over her chest. She glares at him. “How do I know that? You’re a villain. I bet you had a whole speech planned and thought I’d fall for it—”

“I’m not here to have sex with you!”

Silence.

Chat Noir’s cheeks go red. “I-I mean, it’s not that you’re not pretty enough, because you’re really hot. Gorgeous, actually. Like, really, really out of my league. And it’s not like I wouldn’t _want_ to, because that kiss just now was _amazing_ and if you kiss like you have sex—” He cuts himself off, impossibly red. “I’m going to shut up now.”

Okay. Wow. That was a lot to unpack.

“So...yeah,” he says, clasping at his belt tail and looking at the ground _very_ intently. “Not here to sleep with you.”

“Good,” Marinette says, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. “Well...I guess even if you wanted to, I’m going to be dead within a week, anyway, so there’s not much point.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he says immediately, color draining from his cheeks so he was back to a normal shade, if only slightly pink.

This made her pause. “Do you?”

“That’s actually the reason I’m here. Ikari Gozen hasn’t put out the announcement for your ransom, yet, and she won’t until later tonight—there’s a lot of protocol, or whatever. That means we have a couple hours to plan a strategy so you don’t go into this completely blind.”

“Into what?” Marinette raises an eyebrow.

“Look,” Chat Noir says. “There’s no easy way to get you out of a death penalty. And even with a ransom, it would probably be something like ‘total surrender’, and I doubt Lady Wifi would be willing to trade you for the entirety of East Paris.”

No, she would not. Marinette wouldn’t want her to even if she did agree.

“So, your pretty much stuck with one option. It’s called a Rite to Violence.”

“I’m sorry, the what?” Marinette says, feeling laughter build up.

“Stupid name, I know, but it’s what’s going to save you,” Chat Noir assures her. “Well, if you aren’t killed first. Anyway, it’s this fighting ceremony my father instated a couple years ago. A prisoner of Hawkmoth can claim the right to violence to participate in…well, a Rite to Violence. It’s supposed to boost moral because it’s a spectator event and people get to watch their favorite villains beat up traitors.”

Marinette swallows. It takes Chat Noir a second to realize what he said.

“Not that that’ll happen to you! If you claim the right to violence, you’ll get immediate immunity and won’t be able to be hurt until the Rite. It’s a respectable thing because those who claim the right are seen as warriors. It’s like getting instant celebrity status. But it hasn’t happened in a while because we haven’t had too many prisoners who knew about it.”

“This Rite to Violence...what is it exactly? I don’t have to kill anyone, right?” She shifts on her feet, nervously digging her fingers into the fabric of her pants.

“No, it’s just a fight. The challenger faces off against anyone of Hawkmoth’s choosing and the two fight until their special objects are broken. And the good thing is that the challenger always gets to choose a few items to bring into the fight because they’re opponents are usually super strong.”

“You’re not exactly selling thing well,” Marinette says dryly. “Do I get anything if I win the fight? Because I don’t really want to be a villain celebrity.”

“You’d still be a prisoner if you win, but you’d have indefinite immunity and couldn’t be killed,” Chat Noir says, smiling for the first time since he entered the room. “And you’d be upgraded to better living conditions complete with your own room in the Louvre.”

“Oh, wow. A pretty cage. How lovely. It’s not like I’d rather be back home with my friends.”

Chat Noir’s face falls. “Right. Sorry.”

“Why did you take me anyway?” she can’t help but ask.

He fidgets, not meeting her eyes. “Why were you rescuing a cat in a run-down bakery?”

“I grew up there,” Marinette finds herself saying. “It belonged to my parents. It was destroyed in a fire a few years back in a attack by villains.”

“That sucks, I’m sure they’re sad to have it gone. I’ve heard it’s hard work running a bakery,” Chat Noir says.

“They’re dead,” Marinette says. “Today’s the anniversary, actually.”

“I’m sorry.” There’s a beat of silence. “I lost my mom a while ago, too.”

Not sure what else to say, Marinette retorts, “Must be why your dad’s such an ass.”

Chat Noir snorts so she must have said the right thing. “Yeah, pretty much.” He lifts an arm and rubs at the back of his neck. 

“Anyway, to answer your question, I took you because of”—He waves a hand between the two of them— “Whatever this is between the two of us. The truth is, for the past month, I’ve felt like there was something in East Paris that was calling to me. I lied to my dad to get to go there to look for whatever it was…and it was you. And for some reason, I just couldn’t even think about not taking you with me; leaving you behind would have been torture.

“I’m sorry I had to kidnap you to get here and I’m sorry that you might die because of it, but I can’t be sorry you’re still with me. I don’t know why this is happening to us, but I do know I can’t lose you.”

His eyes are pretty, Marinette decides.

“I can’t forgive you for kidnapping me,” she starts, her voice level and controlled. “But I know how you feel. Our connection is strong—I’ve felt the same thing about West Paris for the last month, too. But that doesn’t mean I want it to control us. We’re still our own people no matter what is happening to us. That means we’re responsible for what we do.” At that, Chat Noir looks away. “Other than that do you say we figure this connection thing out together?”

Marinette holds out her hand. 

Chat Noir looks at it hesitantly and sticks out his own. “Okay.”

They shake on it.

“Just don’t try to kiss me again or I _will_ end you.” She holds up her fist threateningly.

Chat Noir smirks. “Says the girl without powers.”

“How do you know I don’t have powers?” Marinette says, puffing out her chest.

“If you do, why didn’t you use them against me?”

“I was just…biding my time. Next time, you’ll never know what hit you.” She huffs and purses her lips. “I bet I could knock you out if I wanted to.”

“You go right ahead and do that,” Chat Noir says. “You’re going to need all the practice you can get for your Rite.”

“Oh…kind of forgot about that. Wait…I don’t have powers, how the hell do you think I can win in a fight against a trained villain?” Marinette’s breathing quickens and she can feel herself slipping into ‘Hyperventilating Marinette Mode’ as Nino had taken to calling it.

“Hey, hey, calm down. I believe in you. And I’ll even give you a few tips. I can—”  
  


There’s a short rapping on the door and Chat Noir curses.

“I’ve got to go now. I’ll come back tomorrow, I swear. Don’t worry. I won’t let you go into this blind.”

“So, you’re just going to leave me here?” Marinette says, palms starting to sweat with the rise of her nerves.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a choice. I promise we’ll figure this out. Just remember, when they give you your first meal, demand a right to violence. They aren’t allowed to deny you and you’ll be given immediate immunity.”

Marinette nods. “I’ll do it. I don’t trust you, but I’ll do it.”

“Oh, and don’t tell anyone I told you about the right or I’ll get in a lot more trouble than I’m already in. You have to make it look like you overheard it somewhere. I can’t be involved in this,” he says firmly.

“But, the guards saw you. Wouldn’t they know?” Marinette asks.

“There’s perks to being the boss’ son. As far as they know, I was never here.” He flashes her a smile and she can’t help but giggle.

“Thank you, Chat Noir,” she says. “I still hate you, but thank you for trying to save my life.”

“Call me Chat, Princess.”

“Only if you call me Marinette.”

“Deal,” he says.

Chat walks back to the door and knocks. There’s a click and it unlocks. “Stay alive, Marinette.”

He slips out the door, leaving Marinette alone to plan to fight in an arena battle. Without powers. Lucky her.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so there you have it. A bunch of shipping to fangirl with as you please. As always, I'm open to suggestions. Any theories? I'd love to hear them. I'll probably be back with another update in another month, lol. If I'm late though, here's a few hints for the next chapter: More Alya, more planning with Marinette and Chat, and a sly fox that somehow managed to squeeze her way into this story...hmmm....


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got really inspired and wrote this behemoth... I hope you enjoy!

Warm blood slides down his cheek from the cut on his forehead, dripping on the concrete arena floor. His ears ring, drowning out the the cheering of the crowd. Chat’s vision spins as his head is slammed into the ground again, another wave of pain washing over him.

Gorizilla lets out a roar, finally letting go of Chat Noir as he faces the audience, pounding his fists against his chest.

Chat pants from where he lies face-down on the floor. Everything hurts so badly. His left ankle is definitely broken, as is his left wrist and several of his fingers. His face is caked in blood, black mask tinted red. He wants this to end. End the pain, end the spectacle. He searches the audience again, knowing he’ll find nothing, but still looking anyway. 

His father didn’t even show up. Chat doesn’t know why he thought he would. The fight’s probably being filmed, anyway.

He lets himself breath for a few more seconds, lets himself think as Gorizilla amps up the crowd. Chat doesn’t think he’s ever seen this many people in the arena stands. He gets it, though. Hawkmoth’s son being forced to fight ten villains back-to-back as punishment for failing a mission? Unheard of. Especially when Westerners heard Chat had never lost a fight.

Even before he was Chat Noir, he still fought as Adrien. And since the first fight, he’s come out the winner every time. But that was different. He’s only ever fought three times in a row. Five would be a challenge, much less ten without breaks in between.

He still hasn’t lost yet. Gorizilla is number seven. So far, he’s getting his ass kicked.

_Three more,_ he tells himself. _Three more after Gorizilla and then you’re done_.

Misfortune stirs all around him: in the crowd, in Gorizilla, and in himself where he stores it in reserves. All of it is a well he can draw from. The crowd won’t notice their luck has suddenly increased with the absence of their bad luck. They’ll collect more in a few minutes anyway.

Chat tugs on all of it, the invisible bad luck converging in him. The burst of energy that follows is refreshing and Chat is finally able to take a full deep breath. His head clears a bit, the fog in his mind easing up. The bad luck is electric, pure power at its finest. And it’s his to command.

He fakes stillness as Gorizilla approaches, the arena shaking with every step he takes. The ginormous gorilla-villain towers over him in monster form, shadow swallowing Chat.

Chat watches the shadow move as Gorizilla bends over to hit him again. He doesn’t get the chance.

Chat Noir rolls on the ground so he’s face up, gatherings all the bad luck he dares, and aims straight up, right at Gorizilla’s face. “ _Cataclysm_!”

Gorizilla shrieks as the black tendrils of pure misfortune lick at his face, disintegrating layers of fur and skin. He falls backwards, the arena shaking under his weight. Chat Noir doesn’t have the time or the effort to feel bad for hurting him. This is the arena. It’s what you do. The powerful rise, the weak fall. This is the way of the West.

The healers will fix him up, anyway.

Lying on his back, Chat stares at the ceiling. Everything is blurring, the lights above blinding. He gives himself two seconds—two measly seconds—and forces himself to stand. He almost falls over from the pain, but he stands his ground and puts his fist in the air as the crowd goes ballistic.

“Who’s next?”

xXx

Adrien clenches his jaw so tightly he thinks it will shatter. He nods and the healer pops his shoulder back into place. The flash of pain that accompanies it is dulled by the healer’s soothing touch.

His grip tightens on the edge of the cot as the healer moves on to his broken fingers and wrist.

“Ten arena fights in a row and you still manage to pull through,” a voice says from the entrance to the arena’s nursing area. “You never cease to amaze me, Adrien.”

“Kagami,” Adrien acknowledges but doesn’t turn to face her. Kagami isn’t deterred, she walks in front of him, standing far back enough that the healer can do her work undisturbed.

“I heard about what happened. Are you okay?” As always, her posture is impeccable—back straight, hands behind her back.

“You tell me,” Adrien says, then smiles, showing off the gaps in his teeth where a few had been knocked out. The healer would have to regrow those, too.

Kagami narrows her eyes. “I don’t mean the fight. I’m talking about your mission and that girl you brought home—Lady Wifi’s friend. Obviously, your father wasn’t happy about it.” She gestures to him.

“Father can screw off,” Adrien says, sighing as he regains feeling in his hand, leaving only minor injuries. The healer moves onto his teeth, giving Adrien an excuse not to talk, at least for a bit.

“This is serious, Adrien. First you lie to me about why you want to go to the East and then you fail your mission and you don’t seem to care even after those fights. Your father is still mad at you. _My mother_ is still mad at you. She told me what that girl said, you know. She has some nerve disrespecting Hawkmoth like that,” Kagami says, bitterly.

Adrien is suddenly thankful the healer told him to sit still because he’s never wanted to punch Kagami more in his life. If he hadn’t spent most of his misfortune in the arena, it would be thrashing right now.

“Mother’s putting out the announcement of her ransom later tonight. Hawkmoth told her to set the price at total surrender. Lady Wifi’s not that stupid. Her friend’s going to die by the end of the week.”

_Not if I can help it_ , Adrien says. By now, Marinette should have gotten her first meal. If she did what he told her to, the news should be getting to his father of her claiming the right to violence any minute now.

“Would you test your jaw for me?” the healer asks suddenly, pulling away to look at him. Adrien does as told. “I’m going to test your new teeth, tell me if you feel any sharp pains.”

The healer presses a finger to each of Adrien’s new teeth. She seems satisfied when she’s finished checking and sets to work on his black eye.

“What aren’t you telling me, Adrien?” Kagami asks when he’s free to talk. “Please, I’m your friend.” Her brown eyes bore into him.

Adrien’s not an idiot. He knows how Kagami feels about him. For a time, he’d considered reciprocating, but it always felt forced and he could never fully convince himself it was a good idea. Besides, now all Adrien can think of is Marinette. It’s probably his imagination, but he can still taste her on his lips.

Their kiss had been too many things all at once, all of them good. Except maybe that it was too short. It felt so right, so wonderful, like they were connected. But it was also so wrong. For starters, he kissed her without asking. Just because she reciprocated almost immediately didn’t mean he was right for doing it. Second, she was a prisoner. A prisoner he captured. Third, his father would literally kill him if he found out. Fourth, it stirred a lot of _feelings_ he wasn’t used to, even being a teenager.

Wait, how old is _she_? He hasn’t even asked that. She looked to be about his age, but he wasn’t even sure about that.

It takes him a moment to realize Kagami’s still waiting for an answer.

“It’s none of your business, Kagami.”

Kagami looks hurt but she quickly masks her expression. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk about it, keep your secrets. I should be going, anyway. See you later.”

She leaves without another word and Adrien feels a little guilty. He may not be in love with her, but Kagami is right. She’s his friend. One of his only friends. He’ll have to find a way to make it up to her soon. That’ll have to wait, though. Right now, saving Marinette’s life is his priority. And he doesn’t have long to figure out a strategy to get her to win when the Rite comes to rear its head.

xXx

The good thing, Lila Rossi thinks, about being a double agent is that she has twice the connections a normal agent would.

She’s done her fair share of work for both East and West Paris over the years, neither side knowing of her affiliations with the other. She’s helped lesser-known heroes sneak in by spying on her Western “allies” and she’s helped villains slip through the heroes patrol at the border.

Even so, Lila prefers to live in West Paris. To her Eastern allies, she says it’s to keep a close eye on the enemy, to her Western ones she says it’s because she likes the endless parties, which always helps lower their guards. The real reason, though, is that in West Paris, it’s expected for you to flaunt what you have over those with less, which Lila adores doing.

She strolls down the street carrying several bags filled to the brim with valuables: a bunch of new clothes—curtesy of Style Queen’s new fashion line—several different types of jewelry she purchased at the market, and a few new weapons—nothing too fancy, just a couple grenades, fresh ammo, and a few new poisons she’s been wanting to try out.

To some, it would seem risky to go out in the open carrying such valuables, but Lila Rossi knows what the low-lifes don’t: if you carry yourself like a villain, you are a villain. And villains don’t steal from villains they believe to be more powerful.

Lila would be one of the first to admit her ability wasn’t good for brute strength, but it didn’t matter. She’d mastered her illusions early on, even without using her power. It all depended on how you carried yourself. So Lila carries herself like a villain of power. And if she ever needed to, she could always conjure up a fake power with an illusion.

As Lila nears her apartment, she picks her key out of her pocket, holding her bags precariously on one arm. She shoves the key into the lock and turns the knob, kicking the door open with a foot. She sets her bags down on the floor and closes the door behind her, being sure to lock it.

When she flicks on the lights, she startles so much she almost screams.

“Hello, Lila.”

“Max,” Lila says, gritting her teeth. “I didn’t realize you were back on the West side. Hero life not treating you so good?” She tries to make her voice as sweet as possible.

“It’s more than adequate, thank you. I’m here to see you. I have a favor to ask of you.”

Max is sitting in her favorite chair—the comfy orange one she’d gotten as reward for helping some Western elite get back a few workers that were trying to escape to the East. She glances at her suit, hung on a hook across the room, her flute mounted on the wall next to it. If she had her flute, she would have used it to crack his skull.

“Oh?” she says instead. “What kind of a favor?”

“You still maintain connections in Crime Central, correct?” he asks, side-stepping the question.

“Of course, they’re my greatest asset here. I’m not an idiot.” She flips her hair back and puts a hand on her hip, trying to regain control of the conversation. “And I’m not going to answer any more questions until you tell me what mission you have for me. I won’t be strung along.”

“Fair enough,” Max shrugs. “My client recently lost a friend from villain kidnapping. We believe she was taken to Crime Central. But none of us have any chance getting near. My client knows of my previous occupation and asked if I knew anyone who could infiltrate Crime Central and free her friend. I told her I did.”

Flattery. He knows her too well.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Complete free reign to cross the border. We can’t say anything for Western border patrols, but you won’t be stopped by Eastern ones.”

Lila certainly finds _that_ offer intriguing. It would make smuggling missions ten times easier, which could earn her a _lot_ of money and a shiny new reputation with the black market. There’s just one problem. “Bull. No hero has the power to grant that kind of permission.”

“Lady Wifi does.”

Holy. Freaking. Shit. “You have some nice friends, Max.”

“Actually it’s Gamer, now, Volpina.”

Lila huffs, shaking her head. Then, her mind catches up to something. “You mean to tell me a friend of Lady Wifi got kidnapped?”

“You don’t need to know the details, Lila, do you want the job or not?”

The mission would be tough, that’s for sure. A friend of Lady Wifi would be locked up good, if they knew the person was her friend, that is, which they likely did. Still, it was a good opportunity. And even if she wasn’t able to free Lady Wifi’s friend, she could still make more connections at Crime Central while she was there.

“I’ll do it, but I want payment up front.”

“Deal.”

xXx

Saying his father is pissed is an understatement. He’s already broken a table and was close to shattering a window before Nathalie stepped in to tell him no.

“Who told her about the Rite?” Hawkmoth roars. “Where are those guards? I’ll have them killed.”

“Gabriel, please, you have to calm down,” Nathalie urges, staying a few feet back from where his father is surrounded by the remains of the nearest chair. “Just because she claimed the right to violence doesn’t mean she’ll win. I’ve been assured she doesn’t even possess powers. This is her last-ditch effort at trying to survive but it will fail.”

Hawkmoth paces the floor, stepping the broken pieces of chair and table, looking ready to grab the nearest potted plant and hurl it against the wall.

Chat Noir stands back, leaving Nathalie to diffuse his father on her own. He wouldn't be much help, anyway. If anything, he’d only make his father more angry. After getting fixed up by the healer, Adrien had suited up again and almost immediately been found and cornered by a set of guards, who told him of his father’s summons. It was then he knew Marinette had claimed the right.

He went to his father’s office, only to find Ikari Gozen and Style Queen waiting outside. He understood the second he heard something shatter inside. He wanted to stay out of the office, too, but he was summoned. You don’t ignore a summons from Hawkmoth. Period.

His father hasn’t said a word to him since he entered the room. There is no “hello”, “congratulations for surviving the battle arena I forced you into”, or “well done, you single-handedly broke the record for the number of arena battles fought and won in a row”. But Chat takes it in stride. If his father was mad at him, he’d known. The fact that he’s silent is louder than any congratulations.

It takes another ten minutes before Nathalie can calm Hawkmoth down, all the while Chat waits patiently in the corner, letting his mind wander. He thinks of Marinette. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to see the look on her guard’s faces when she claimed the right.

“We’ll turn the Rite into a show of force,” Hawkmoth says and Chat tunes back into the conversation. “We’ll have Prime Queen broadcast the fight all over West Paris. When she loses, everyone will see her defeat and what she represents: Lady Wifi’s failure to protect even her closest friend. I can’t believe I never saw this before. It’s the perfect opportunity to weaken Lady Wifi’s image.”

Nathalie scribbles on a clipboard, writing notes to plan for the Rite. “I recommend having the girl face a villain with showy powers, sir. It would look better on T.V and make the fight more interesting.”

“Excellent idea, Nathalie,” Hawkmoth says, a smile slowly forming. “Make a list of villains with flashy powers and a history with arena fights. We want someone who can play to the crowd.”

Shit. Chat had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Arena fighters, especially flashy ones, tend to be brutal. In the arena, the important thing isn’t your opponent, it’s the crowd. Yes, winning is important, but winning the crowd’s favor is also important. If you win a battle but the crowd hates you, there was no point to it. Without a crowd there’s no way to earn power or work your way up in the world. Crowds tended to favor the villain with the fanciest-looking power that went in for the cheap shots. Westerners wouldn’t be Westerners if they didn’t enjoy a good fight that ended with someone half-dead on the ground. He knows this too well as an arena fighter, himself. 

This isn’t good for Marinette. Not in the slightest. He has to fix this, to steer his father away from that train of thought.

“You’re quiet, Adrien. I hope we’re not boring you.”

Chat nearly jumps. “Of course not, father. I was just thinking…”

Hawkmoth raises an eyebrow beneath his mask. “About?”

Chat fidgets, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Well, I agree an experienced arena fighter might not be the best idea,” he starts, unsure of where he’s going, but desperately trying to figure out a way for this to make sense. “I mean, sure they’re good fighters, but it wouldn’t really get a lot of people watching, you know?”

His father is silent for a few moments, as is Nathalie, who’s pen slows on her clipboard. “Go on,” his father says at last.

His heart skips a beat, pouding in his chest. He’s got his father’s attention, now all he needs to do is keep it. “Well, if we want to show everyone that Lady Wifi can’t save them, it wouldn’t make sense to aim this at villains. They already hate Lady Wifi. We should aim this more at the civilians. And civilians don’t really watch arena fights, so why would they start now? Wouldn’t it make more sense to have Marinette fight a popular villain instead? One that would draw in more crowds of civilians?”

When he’s finished, all Chat can do is wait and hope. That hope lingers when his father doesn’t contradict him. He actually seems to be considering it, too.

Finally, Hawkmoth says, “Who do you have in mind?”

It takes everything in Chat’s power not to show his relief. Then, he tells him his suggestion.

xXx

“What’s he saying?” Rose asks, gripping Juleka’s arm. “Is he okay?”

“Shh,” Alya says, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to block out all the noises around her. “I’m trying to listen.

As she hears the clicks, she jots down the message onto a pad of paper. She has to admit, Max’s gadgets are incredible. Somewhere across the city, in West Paris, Max transmits his message using radio waves—or more specifically wifi waves. Alya uses her power to listen and feel the waves, translating the pulses into dots and dashes.

When she and Max came up with the idea, he’d wanted to encode messages so they wouldn’t have to deal with Westerners finding out about their transmissions and getting in the way of their plans. But they soon found they didn’t need to. Westerners weren’t even aware transmissions took place, so why bothering encrypting messages? It would only make things harder on themselves.

After a few more minutes, the message starts to repeat and Alya tuned it out. Alya pushes off the table, rolling her chair over to Max’s computer, already set up to turn byte into words.

Alya looks at her pad of paper and begins to type it in. Once she’s finished, she presses start and the program does the magic for her, a worded message popping out a few minutes later.

All at once, everyone crowds around her, trying to see the computer screen.

“What’s he say about Marinette?” Nino asks. “Did he find her?”

“Has he met up with his friend yet? Did she agree to help us?” Ivan asks.

“What is he saying about Chat Noir?” Rose asks.

“Everyone quiet. I can’t read with you asking me questions every five seconds,” Alya says, glaring over her shoulder. When she’s met with no reply, she says, “Thank you.”

Alya reads the message once and then reads it again, just to make sure she got everything. “He made it West without much trouble. He says his contact agreed to help us and that she’s going to be going to Crime Central first thing in the morning. He’s going to come back as soon as possible and he’ll let us know when he crosses the border.”

“That’s it?” Nino leans toward the screen, reading over her shoulder.

Alya frowns. “That’s it.” She runs her fingers through her hair. “I mean, it’s good that his contact agreed to help us, but I was kind of hoping for more information about Marinette. She must be so scared right now. She’s got no one over there.”

“Marinette wouldn’t want us to worry about her so much,” Rose says, stepping back with her hands on her hips. “She’d want us to get back to work and help rescue as many people as we can from the West. Right now there isn’t anything we can do to help her, but that doesn’t mean we’re useless. We’re heroes. Right now we should be doing our jobs.”

“Yeah,” Juleka agrees but doesn’t say anything more.

Alya feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up at Nino. He squeezes her shoulder. She grabs his hand and squeezes back.

“You’re right. It’s what Marinette would want. Let’s get to work. I’ll let you all know if Max sends any more messages—” Alya yawns, rubbing her eyes.

Nino laughs. “Maybe we should get some sleep first, Babe. We’ve been up all night.”

Ivan lets out a yawn and everyone laughs. He blushes. “What? I’m tired, too.”

“Then let’s all get some sleep. We’ll work in the morning.”

The heroes file out of the room, seeming more at ease now that a plan was underway to rescue Marinette.

Nino stays with Alya, not saying anything.

“She’s been gone for less than a day, Al. We have all the time in the world to rescue her,” Nino says, rubbing her back reassuringly.

“You’re right,” Alya sighs, rolling her shoulders. “But I still have a few things to do before bed. You go on without me—I’ll catch up.”

“You sure?” Nino asks. “I can wait.”

“No, you go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

“Love you, Alya,” Nino says, walking to the door of the conference room. “Good night.”

“Good night, Nino.”

When he leaves, Alya starts cleaning up for the night, putting away papers and reports about refugee numbers and food rations, putting them in filing cabinets to deal with tomorrow. She manages to get most things picked up and put away when she starts receiving another transmission. She considers getting everyone again, but she just sent them off to bed. Whatever it is, she can translate it now and read it to them in the morning.

Alya sits down with a pad of paper and starts writing again. When she’s gotten all of it, she plugs it into the computer. Again, it spits out a message.

Alya blinks at the first few words: _For Alya’s eyes only._

She keeps reading:

_For Alya’s eyes only. Message received from Crime Central, sent to all West Paris. Marinette to face Stormy Weather in Rite to Violence tomorrow. She loses, she dies._

That’s the entire message. Two sentences. Alya’s eyes linger on the last sentence. _She loses, she dies_. Marinette doesn’t have powers. And she’s going to face Stormy Weather, one of the most well-known villains in Paris, East or West. Stormy Weather isn’t even a normal villain. She’s one of Hawkmoth’s most prized villains; Stormy Weather is an Akuma.

Alya wants to scream. There’s no way she’d be able to get close to Crime Central. Not for the first time, she curses her notoriety. If she was a lesser-known hero she might have been able to play herself off as a villain and pretend to be a crowd member. But she can’t. Which means she can’t save Marinette.

Tears trace down her cheeks. If Max’s contact doesn’t make it in time, Marinette is going to die.

_Just…don’t hurt her_. That’s what she’d told Chat Noir when she knew there wasn’t a way to save Marinette.

Alya throws her pad of paper at the wall. She wishes she had something else to break.

_Wouldn’t dream of it_ , Chat Noir had replied.

Liar. Liar, liar, liar!

Without meaning to, Alya unleashes her power, sending out purple-tinted waves of pure energy out in all directions. The room shakes when they make contact with the walls, parts of the ceiling flaking off and falling to the ground. Paper flies off the table and out of the filing cabinets, spilling onto the floor. The room is a mess. Alya doesn’t care.

Her power fluxuates in her in effort to keep her from destroying the whole damn building.

Chat Noir better say his prayers because the next time she see him, she’s going to kill him. And nothing and no one will be able to stop her.

xXx

The lights in her cell went off a while ago, which Marinette takes to mean it’s night. She tries to sleep, she really does, but the pull in her chest tugs almost constantly. When she was in East Paris, it had bothered her at night, but never this much. She blames it on the proximity.

When her guards opened the cell door to give her dinner, she did what Chat told her to do and claimed the right to violence. The guards had been so stunned she’d needed to repeat herself twice before they fully accepted that she’d claimed the right.

Since then, she’d heard nothing else, but she could only imagine what was going on outside her cell. Marinette doesn’t let herself linger on it for long, though, because if she’s going to be facing a villain, she’s going to need her sleep.

Which is why it’s annoying that she can’t seem to sleep no matter how hard she tries.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to her that he can’t sleep, either.

She doesn’t even roll over to face the door when he steps into the room.

“The Rite’s tomorrow,” Chat says quietly, somehow knowing she’s awake. “I don’t think anyone told you.”

“No, they didn’t,” she says. And after a moment, “Thank you.”

He hums in response and she expects him to move closer, but there isn’t the tell-tale sign of movement.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Marinette finally rolls over, pushing herself into a seated position. She can’t see him in the dark, but she knows he’s there. She can feel him, the pull in her chest ever present.

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

Marinette doesn’t hesitate to stand up, walking across the small cell until she’s right in front of him. She finds his lips in the dark and kisses him. She feels him stiffen, but after a moment, his lips press against hers. Her hands find there way to his chest, sliding back behind his neck, fingers threading in his hair, pressing him closer, always closer. She feels his arms snake around her waist, pushing their bodies together. She presses her tongue to the seam of his lips and he gasps, giving her access to his mouth. As their tongues press together, Marinette’s mind fogs.

Without warning, she pulls back.

Chat lets loose a very elegant, “Gah,” in his kiss-dazed state.

Marinette pants, barely able to find her words. “Now we’re even.”

The two stand there for a few moments, the only sound that of their heavy breathing.

After a long time, Chat says, “I thought you said we couldn’t kiss anymore.”

“I said _you_ couldn’t kiss _me_. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” She can _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

“What are you doing here, Chat?” she asks, running a hand down the side of her face.

“I couldn’t sleep. I’m guessing it’s the same for you?”

“This stupid connection,” Marinette says, shaking her head. “It wasn’t this bad before today—or I guess yesterday if it’s past midnight.”

“It’s better now, though, right?” Chat asks. “It’s a lot…tamer when we’re together.”

This gives her pause. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asks. Marinette knew he would. “It doesn’t have to be together. I can take the floor, you can keep your bed. It’s just…a lot nicer here.”

“You’d rather sleep on a prison cell floor than in your own room?”

She hears him shrug. “You’re not in my room.” Silence. “You know, I should really learn to think before I speak.”

“Yeah, you really should,” she says. “And yes, if you keep quiet and don’t try anything, you can stay.”

He plops down on the floor. “Thanks. Good night, Marinette.”

Marinette finds her way to her fold-down bed and curls up on it. The tug is less obnoxious now that he’s here. “Good night, Chat Noir.”

When Marinette closes her eyes, she’s finally able to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost didn't have Marinette in this chapter but then decided that I couldn't allow that to happen, and thus you get a second kiss scene. Questions, ideas, theories? Leave a comment! I read every one of them and they always inspire me to write more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I couldn't wait to write the Rite. I've had this scene in my head for months now and it was so satisfying to actually write it. Anyway, I probably won't update for a while after this, but know I'll be working on more chapters. Hope you enjoy!

Chat doesn’t think he’s gotten such a good night’s sleep before in his _life_ . Which is laughable considering he slept on the floor of a prison cell. There was just something about sleeping next to Marinette that was so soothing—next to, not _with_ , he had to remind is stupid teenage hormones. He even had really good dreams, to boot.

As he feels himself wake up, he once again thanks his natural body clock. It’s probably around five in the morning, which is good considering prisoners are usually fed at seven and he _really_ doesn’t want to be caught coming _out_ of Marinette’s cell by a new guard rotation.

Sitting up, Chat stretches his sore muscles—the down-side of having slept on the floor—and yawns. The lights are still off, so regrettably he can’t see what Marinette looks like when she’s sleeping, though he’d bet she looked incredibly beautiful. He also regrets that he has to wake her up, but it has to be done.

“Marinette,” he whispers, moving over to her fold-down bed. 

There’s a long, loud, snore as response.

“Marinette,” he says, louder this time.

She doesn’t even stir.

He gives up, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. “Marinette, wake up.”

“What?” she says groggily. He feels her sit up.

“I have to go soon, but I’m not going to have a chance to see you before the Rite, so I need to let you know what you’re going to be up against now.”

“Five more minutes,” she grumbles, curling back up into a ball.

Time for drastic measures.

Chat leans down to where her face is and—

Marinette squeals, sitting up so fast she almost slams her head into Chat’s. “Did you just _lick_ me?”

“You seem very relaxed considering you could _die_ today without my advice,” Chat says, resting his elbow on the edge of her bed and leaning his head against his hand.

“You’re disgusting,” she whines. “Now I have stray cat germs on me.”

“Excuse you, I’m no stray. And might I remind you you kissed me yesterday. You should be used to cat germs by now.”

“I only kissed you because you kissed me!”

“Right. My mistake. That makes _purrfect_ sense.”

Marinette is quiet for a moment. “You did not just say that.”

“I think I did.”

“And to think I was starting to like you.”

Chat sits up, eyes going wide. “You are?”

“Past tense, Kitty. That pun made you go back into the negative.”

“Aw, come on, it was just _one_ pun.”

“Nope, you’re dead to me. I’ll never like you again.”

“No,” Chat moans, falling into a pile at the end of her bed. “This is animal cruelty. I’m calling the police.”

Marinette snorts. “There are no police anymore. Your dad made sure of that.”

“Hey, I was like thirteen when the barrier appeared. Police have existed longer in my life than the barrier has. Hawkmoth’s only been around for five years.”

“Gosh, that’s weird to think about,” Marinette says.

“What?” Chat asks.

“Hawkmoth existed before the barrier. I kind of forget about it, you know? He used to be a normal person.”

“Um...can we please not talk about my father?”

Marinette stills. “Oh, sorry, I kind of forgot he was your dad for a second. You two are nothing alike.”

“You barely know my father. You saw him for, what, two minutes?”

“It was enough to know he’s an asshole.”

“By that logic you don’t think I’m an asshole. I think we’re making some progress.”

She makes a grumbling noise. “I bet we’d make even more progress if you told me what the Rite’s going to be like today.”

“I’m trying! You’re the one who wouldn’t get up.”

“Less logic, more explaining.”

“You’ve heard of Stormy Weather, right?” Chat asks.

“She’s one of the original Akumas, right? From the Fighting Years?”

“Yep. She’s been around for a while and she’s pretty well-known because of it.”

“Wait, are _you_ an Akuma? I mean, you’d have to have been around your dad during the Fighting Years, too. But you said you’re new to being a villain, so I guess you didn’t fight, but—”

“I’m not. To be an Akuma you have to have been given your power by Hawkmoth. Mine came naturally.”

“Really? Huh. I just assumed he _had_ given you your power. It seemed like something he would do since you’re his son.”

“Father doesn’t give out favors unless he thinks people have earned them. And even then, he’s super picky. Anyway, back to Stormy Weather. She’s not the ideal opponent, but she’s one of the better Akumas to face. She’s strong, don’t get me wrong, but her ability is more flashy than powerful—she controls weather if you couldn’t tell be the name. She’s a bit of a drama queen, if you ask me, and loves hyping up the crowd. When you fight her, make sure to take advantage of the moments she stops to wave. There will be a lot of those because she won’t think you’re a threat and she’ll try to drag out the performance as long as possible. The Rite’s being televised, so she’s going to want as much screen time as possible.”

“Okay, so, flashy weather powers, she plays up the crowd, so work it to my advantage. Got it,” Marinette says.

“With that in mind, have you given any thought to the items you want to bring in? It includes weapons, but you can pretty much ask for anything. Except bombs and poison and stuff, they don’t want you actually killing your opponent.”

“Do I get to see her in action first? It might be nice to base my choices off of that. Like, if she uses lightning a lot, I probably don’t want to go in with something metal,” she says.

“There’s a small showcase at the beginning where opponents show off their power and then a small break before the actual fight. Would that work?” Chat asks.

“I think so. Thank you for your help. And for waking me up. I know I’m a bit hard to wake up in the morning.” Marinette laughs softly. It’s a breathtaking sound.

“You’re worth it,” is all Chat says.

He picks himself up off the ground, wishing he could see Marinette one last time before the Rite. Damn the dark.

“I’ll be watching the fight, by the way. And even if I can’t show it, I’ll be rooting for you. So please don’t get yourself hurt. And please don’t lose.” _Please don’t die._

“Thank you, Chat. That makes me feel a bit better. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try my best. And if I do lose…just let Alya know I love her. She’s my best friend and I don’t want her to blame herself if I die.”

That’s right. Lady Wifi’s name is Alya. He remembers hearing it somewhere before.

“If I can find her, I’ll tell her for you. Just…make sure I don’t have to, okay? And good luck out there.”

“I think I’ll need it.”

xXx

It took a little bribery and some threatening here and there, but Volpina was able to snag a seat for the Rite. _Hawkmoth really knows how to go all out on short notice_ , she notes, taking in the arena.

It technically isn’t an arena. It’s an area outside of Crime Central that used to be a bunch of buildings but said buildings were destroyed long ago, leaving just the ground and the rubble surrounding it. It’s all make-shift, with the crowd left to sit and stand on piles of rubble that act as arena walls. There’s still rubble left in the arena, too, and a single old and crumbling building leftover that Volpina supposes is mean to make the fight interesting. After all, if it falls over on during the fight, it’s sure to be an exciting turn of events.

She knows she should be coming up with a way to get the girl out of having to fight, but watching the fight would be a lot more interesting and safe than that. Besides, she has time to rescue her after she loses the fight. It’s not like they’re going to execute her on the spot.

The crowd that gathers in the “stands” chatters excitedly, making bets and cracking jokes at Lady Wifi’s friend’s expense. A few of the jokes even make Volpina chuckle. What a great way to start the morning.

“Good morning, West Paris!” a voice says over the crowd. “And welcome to the first Rite of Passage in over a year. It’s really been a while since the last one, but today’s Rite is already promising to be entertaining.” Prime Queen, West Paris’ favorite show host, appears to be the announcer of this Rite.

She uses her power to project screens into the sky, letting the audience see close-ups of the arena while narrating over it. “If some of you are unaware, I’ll explain. Yesterday, debut villain Chat Noir brought back a civilian from a mission. Turns out she’s important. Bet you’ll never guess who she really was…” Prime Queen teases, letting the audience shout out the answer. “That’s right. Apparently, she’s the best friend of Lady Wifi! Everyone, give it up for sweet little Marinette!”

The screens above the stadium shift images, suddenly showing a young girl at the far side of the arena. She’s got long dark hair and eyes so blue it makes Volpina want to rip them out. She’s pretty in the adorable sense, which makes Volpina hate her even more. She doesn’t look into the camera, instead, gazing out at the crowd with her mouth half open. She looks terrified. _This_ is Lady Wifi’s best friend?

Prime Queen seems to materialize on screen, suddenly standing right next to Marinette, holding a microphone.

“Hello there, sweetie. I’m Prime Queen and I’m the announcer for the Rite. Tell me, what made you claim the right to violence?”

Marinette looks very uncomfortable with a microphone pressed in her face. “Um…I don’t want to die?”

That gets a laugh out of the audience. A laugh _at_ Marinette. 

“And what’s it like being friends with Lady Wifi? Did you ever believe she’d abandon you?”

Marinette glares at Prime Queen, as spark that hadn’t been there before flaring up. “She didn’t abandon me. Heroes don’t give up. Villains on the other hand are cowardly bastards that only know how to throw tantrums.”

That gets a few nasty words from the crowd, but a few villains stop laughing. Marinette doesn’t back down from her statement or shy away from the boos thrown her way. She straightens and looks at the crowd.

“That’s quite the opinion for someone surrounded entirely by villains. Do you have a reason to be so cocky? Why don’t you tell us what your power is.”

Marinette falters, but not completely. Still with an air of confidence she says, “I don’t have one.”

The crowd starts to laugh again--hooting, hollering, and throwing food.

Prime Queen startles but takes it in stride. “No—No power? And yet you claimed the right to violence. Lady Wifi must be rubbing off on you. You’re so much like her: arrogant and full of yourself.”

Even more laughing.

All Marinette says is, “We’ll see.”

The screen changes once again, this time revealing Stormy Weather in all her glory. She floats into the arena on swirling wind, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses as they fawn over her. She’s in her usual attire: a dark purple jumpsuit with a skirt that fans out at the waist paired with knee-length white boots and matching gloves. As always, she carries her parasol: her gimmick and gift from Hawkmoth in recognition of her Akuma status.

“And though she needs no introduction, at the other end of the arena—you know her, you love her—it’s Stormy Weather!” Prime Queen announces, the crowd roaring in approval as Stormy Weather sends a huge lightning bolt flashing across the arena, hitting part of the old building and sending some of it crumbling. Stormy Weather doesn’t walk anywhere. She floats across the arena on her wind to show off more of her power.

Volpina knows she’s expected to watch Stormy Weather’s entire performance because every one of the screens shows her at a different angle, but she can’t help but look down at Marinette to survey her reaction.

She expects Marinette to be scared, to be cowering in fear, but she’s not. She looks at Stormy Weather, and though Volpina is too far away to see her expression, it looks like she’s planning, calculating. _Huh._

Stormy Weather’s demonstration continues for another couple of minutes until Prime Queen finally puts an end to it.

“With that, it’s time for our challenger to choose her objects. Today, Hawkmoth has been generous. Marinette, you may choose three objects to bring with you into the Rite.”

The screens change again to show Prime Queen and Marinette once more. “What do you choose?” Prime Queen asks. “Keep in mind, one of these objects will be your Akumatized Object, meaning if your opponent breaks it, you lose. As the audience knows, Stormy Weather’s Akumatized Object is her parasol.”

Marinette blinks and looks down, hunching her shoulders. _She’s like a mouse_. “I…um,” she stammers. “I just need a yo-yo—a really long one with sturdy string—and a towel.”

“A towel…” Prime Queen repeats slowly. Then, she starts to laugh, prompting the audience to do the same. “You think you can beat Stormy Weather with a towel? Stormy, how do you feel about this?”

A few of the screens change to show Stormy Weather. “If she wants to throw away her life, I say let her. This is West Paris. She needs to learn the hard way that we don’t do ‘underdogs’ here.”

There are several cheers of affirmation from the crowd and Stormy Weather preens.

“Are you sure that’s all you want?” Prime Queen asks as the screen blips back to her. She’s trying very hard not to laugh. “A towel and a yo-yo? You can have a third item. Do you want some soap to go with that towel?”

Marinette flushes but nods firmly. “That’s all I need. My towel can be my Akumatized Object.”

“You heard it here, folks,” Prime Queen says, the cameras focusing on her. “This fight is going to be very interesting. Stay tuned. The Rite will start in a few minutes.”

Again, Volpina watches Marinette. Staff members run up to her and give her the items. Marinette wraps the towel around her arm, tying the ends together to secure it in place. Volpina expects her to pocket the yo-yo, but she doesn’t. Instead, she clasps the yo-yo tightly in her hand and starts pulling at the yo-yo string. At least, Volpina thinks she is. The damn cameras really should focus on her. Despite that, Volpina can’t help but feel she’s up to something. And she can’t wait to find out what.

xXx

Chat tries, he really tries, not to look nervous. He’s not sure it’s working, but his father doesn’t comment, so he must be doing something right.

His father, him, and Nathalie get their own booth to watch the fight with the best view right at the center of the arena's 'stands' and in front of the biggest screen. Chat knows he’s expected to cheer for Stormy Weather when she makes her debut, but he can’t find it in himself. His stomach is queasy and all he can think is, _don’t throw up. Please do_ not _throw up_.

He almost did when Marinette chose her items. What was she thinking? A towel? She couldn’t be trying to fail. Could she? He warned her about the fight this morning. Maybe he didn’t warn her enough.

“You must be excited, Adrien,” Hawkmoth says. It’s the first time his father has spoken to him all morning.

“About the fight, Father? I guess it is some reason to celebrate. We haven’t had this much excitement in a long time. It’ll do the villains some good.”

Hawkmoth scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I meant about the Rite overshadowing your previous failure. The public will forget about it as soon as the girl is killed.”

Chat Noir slumps in his chair, looking away from his father. He clenches a fist and doesn’t say anything.

“Your fights yesterday were adequate, but they took too long. Next time, cut down your time. It doesn’t take two hours to beat ten weaker opponents. How do you ever expect to fight on the front lines with those numbers?”

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Chat responds, “Yes, Father.”

“Sir,” Nathalie says, stepping closer to Hawkmoth. “The match is about to start.”

“Good,” is all Hawkmoth says.

Chat Noir turns his attention back to the arena, gaze unable to leave Marinette. She stands across Stormy Weather, ten feet away.

The camera zooms in on Marinette, letting the audience see her shaky hands, one holding her yo-yo. The towel she asked for is wrapped around her left arm. Wait, is she pulling out the string of her yo-yo? Loose string hands from her hands and Marinette holds the end of it in the opposite hand of the yo-yo.

Chat looks around, but none of the audience seems to be paying attention to that. Prime Queen picks up on that because the cameras zoom in on her face. Marinette’s eyes are wide in fear.

Then, Marinette’s lips move on screen and a second later, Prime Queen picks up on the audio.

“—take it easy on me?” Marinette asks Stormy Weather, her voice shaky. “I don’t have powers.”

Stormy Weather laughs. “You know what, since I’m so generous I’ll give you a head start. You’ll have twenty seconds to run. It won’t matter, anyway. I’ll find you. And I’ll win.”

Marinette swallows and nods her head meekly. There’s something off about the movement, about her expression. Chat can’t put his finger on it, but it’s…wrong. The crowd doesn’t seem to notice.

“Competitors, get ready,” Prime Queen says. “West Paris, give me a count down from ten.”

The crowd shouts out the numbers as Stormy Weather lowers herself to the ground. At least until the count is up and she gives Marinette her head start.

The screen shows Stormy Weather cracking her knuckles and swinging her parasol over her shoulder.

“Three!”

Marinette plants her feet, looking over her shoulder.

“Two!”

Stormy Weather yawns.

“One!”

For a split second before the cameras change, they linger on Marinette’s face. She’s no longer wide-eyed. She smirks, gaze filled with absolute confidence. And then it’s gone.

“Begin!” Prime Queen yells.

As promised, Stormy Weather gives Marinette a head start and Marinette uses the time she’s been given, taking off running immediately.

There are a few gasps from the people around him and Chat Noir grips the edge of his chair. Marinette runs _at_ a very unassuming Stormy Weather who’s looking at her nails.

Marinette tackles her to the ground, sending the two rolling. Marinette grabs onto Stormy Weather’s ankle and Stormy Weather kicks. Marinette’s expression is set, determined. _Why isn’t she going for the parasol?_

Finally, Stormy sends a gust of wind at Marinette, blowing her back several yards. She lands on the ground, hard, rolling again. She skins against the cobblestones of the old road and Chat cringes.

If Marinette feels the pain of the blow, she takes it in stride and stands on shaky feet.

Stormy Weather rages across the arena, rising up on her wind, parasol in hand. She shouts something illegible and sends a lighting bolt Marinette’s way.

Marinette starts sprinting away from Stormy Weather, who continues aiming lightning bolts at her, floating after her.

Marinette stops in front of the old crumbling building in the arena and turns around. Waving her hands in the air and screaming something. It must not be very nice because Stormy Weather sends another blast of lighting.

It hits the building, sending debris tumbling down. Marinette dodges the falling debris, even standing on top of one of the bigger pieces and waving at Stormy again, running to the other side of the building.

More lighting follows, Stormy Weather hitting the building each time. Rubble rains down and Marinette manages to dodge it all. Talk about lucky. The crowd seems disappointed by this, but laughs every time Stormy aims. They think it’s funny watching her slowly corner and eventually destroy an innocent person.

Every time something falls Chat feels himself get queasier and queasier. He wishes he could take away every drop of her bad luck, but that would mess up her equilibrium and he doesn’t want to think about what would happen after that.

There’s another lightning bolt and then the building starts tipping. Marinette sprints to get out of the way. Stormy Weather doesn’t even move, her wind surging around her to block any debris flung her way.

The arena shakes as the building collapses, leaving piles of brick and metal and wood scattered across the arena floor. The crowd roars.

Dust rises up, the cameras blurring. They lose track of Marinette. Then, there’s a flash of something in the dust cloud, only it’s gone to quickly.

Stormy Weather looks for Marinette, growing increasingly frustrated as she can’t find her.

She floats closer on the wind and sends a gust at the dust, clearing it away to search for Marinette. She doesn’t need to. Marinette stands in front of all the rubble, unmoving. She holds the end of her yo-yo in hand and starts unwrapping the towel from her arm. She ties the end of the yo-yo around her waist.

Stormy Weather glares at Marinette and starts to float higher. But then, she’s yanked back down. Stormy Weather stops, looking down at her ankle. She tugs but doesn’t go any higher.

There’s a few mutters from the crowd. What’s going on? Why is Stormy not moving?

The cameras zoom in on Stormy Weather’s ankle. It shows nothing. They zoom in again. Tied around Stormy’s ankle is—a string?

Chat Noir gasps. A _yo-yo string_. That’s what Marinette was doing at the beginning of the fight. She was tying her yo-yo around Stormy Weather’s ankle. But why?

Stormy Weather screeches, tugging at her foot. She glares at Marinette, realizing the same thing Chat did.

Marinette yells something and Stormy Weather sends a gust of wind right at her.

Marinette smirks, holding the towel above her head. The gust of wind catches in it. She grips the towel and is sent flying upwards like a kite.

Stormy Weather screams and starts losing altitude. She flails out with her wind, only causing Marinette to get higher and higher with each gust. Stormy Weather hits the ground, getting dragged across the arena floor. She holds tight to her parasol, never letting go.

It’s then that Chat Noir understands what’s going on. If Marinette were near him right now, he’d kiss her into next week because she’s a _genius_.

The reason her expression seemed wrong before the fight is because she’d been faking it. She made herself look to be the weak little girl Stormy Weather expected her to be. Which made it easy for Stormy Weather to underestimate her. With that in mind, Marinette did the last thing Stormy would expect from her at the beginning of the fight and ran _toward_ her, where she tied one end of the yo-yo string to Stormy’s leg, disguising it as an attack. And her yo-yo had already been prepared when she unwound it before the fight started.

  
  


Keeping up the weak girl image, Marinette ran away from Stormy Weather, only luring her to hit the tower like she’d done when she’s shown off her powers at the start. When the tower fell, Marinette used the dust to her advantage and started running to and fro, all the while her yo-yo string snagged on the rubble, running until the string went taut, meaning Stormy Weather would be stuck.

All it had taken was a few simple taunts for Stormy Weather to attack her, sending Marinette with the yo-yo wrapped around her waist into the sky, forcing Stormy Weather down in the process.

Marinette thought of all of that before the match even started.

Chat Noir can’t keep his jaw from dropping as he watches Stormy get dragged across the arena, continuing to send gusts out to try to stop herself, not knowing those very gusts were pushing Marinette higher into the air and causing Stormy Weather to get dragged more.

One thing’s for sure: by the end of the fight Stormy is going to have _serious_ rug burn. The cobblestone’s gotta hurt. Which, of course, Marinette kept in mind.

He watches her, still high in the sky, holding onto her towel. She looks down at Stormy, who’s getting closer and closer to being right underneath her.

Marinette lets go of one end of her towel. She drops like a rock, Stormy Weather finally stopping. But she doesn’t get up. She tries, but she looks to be in a lot of pain. All the while, Marinette falls. Landing directly on top of Stormy Weather. Marinette tumbles off of her and Stormy Weather collapses completely on the ground.

Marinette sits up, clutching her foot. It’s probably broken from the fall. But it could have been much worse.

Slowly, Marinette crawls near Stormy Weather and grabs her parasol out of her hand.

By now the crowd has gone almost completely silent. They watch in horror as Marinette stands up, balancing precariously on one foot, lifts the parasol, and smashes it into the ground, breaking Stormy Weather’s Akumatized Object.

The crowd goes wild, villains standing up to cheer and scream and boo.

Chat breathes out, long and hard, his heart pounding in his chest. She did it. Marinette actually _won_. He has so many questions. How was the yo-yo string long enough to pull that off? Why didn’t it break? How was Marinette able to dodge all the rubble and come out without a scratch? How did she manage to hold onto the towel?

He freezes. Chat looks around at the people nearest him, feeling his power gravitate to them. What?

Chat stands up, stepping out of the booth and scanning the rest of the crowd, reaching out with his power. He stops moving as he looks at the unsuspecting audience in shock. Their equilibriums are out of balance. Every single person in the crowd has a high proportion of bad luck to good. But how? He certainly hasn’t given it to them.

He slowly looks down at Marinette, who’s sitting on the arena floor surrounded by a bunch of healers. Most stay put and watch seeing as Marinette didn’t get many injuries.

Why is that? How is it possible that in a fight against an _Akuma_ a girl without powers was able to come out virtually unscathed?

That’s when Chat notices the tug in his chest. It feels different now, less wild, less insisting. It’s still there, he can still feel Marinette, but it’s more dull.

Hesitantly, Chat reaches out his power toward Marinette—not to hurt, but to observe. He doesn’t want to be right. But he’s right. His power bounces off of her—of the power surrounding her like a force field.

At least he knows where the audience’s good luck went.

It’s all centered around Marinette, who unknowingly used it to win the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for the reveal literally everyone expected, Marinette does have powers! So congratulations to everyone who guessed it. I would also like to congratulate Angelicbookfangirl for pretty much predicting beat for beat what was going to happen during the Rite. You weren't completely correct, but you were pretty dang close and I'm impressed. Theories? Questions? Ideas? Leave a comment, please. I love reading them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we have chapter 9! Sorry for the long wait, but it's finally here and a bit longer than usual as thanks for sticking with me. Thank you to everyone who left kudos, bookmarked, or commented, I'm so glad you're all enjoying the story. Without further ado, I give you the next chapter...

The crowd surges forward, angry villains shoving their way the the edge of the arena. Volpina ducks as something gets thrown over her head, shattering against the arena floor. The villains in the stands shout and curse, the noise getting louder by the second. Wincing, Volpina covers her ears, trying to push back against the crowd so she can leave before things get ugly. Judging my the villains trying fight their way into the arena, it’s going to be sooner rather than later.

Over the speakers, Prime Queen desperately tries to appease the crowds, but her protests go largely ignored. The cameras have been turned off, the broadcast having cut out right after Marinette’s victory. There’s no telling how many people outside of Crime Central saw the Rite, but it’s definitely more than Hawkmoth wanted, especially with Stormy Weather’s defeat.

As Volpina slowly makes her way to the back of the crowd, she’s finally able to get an overview of the arena. Some villains have used their powers to take to the skies, other’s to throw food, bricks, rubble, and anything they can get their hands on. Volpina can feel the tension of the crowds ebbing and flowing. If there’s one thing Volpina does well, being a double agent, it’s how to read a room. The arena is a stick of dynamite—any minute, it’s going to explode.

Right on schedule, something about the audience’s resolve cracks. The measly amount of guards stationed around the arena are nothing against a mob of angry villains. The crowd starts jumping over the side of the arena, storming toward the center, towards Marinette.

“Everyone remain calm!” Prime Queen says, louder than usual. Her voice wavers uneasily. “This is a reminder that the Rite to Violence guarantees the victor’s safety and an immunity to being killed!”

No one listens, villains of all shapes, sizes, and colors storming through the arena to enact vengeance. For a brief moment, Volpina laments that she might have to give Max his money back if the crowd succeeds in killing Marinette.

Suddenly, a small figure darts out from a viewing booth where high-ranking villains sit, and jumps into the arena. But before they touch the ground, the figure begins to grow. When she hits the ground, the arena shakes at the impact and the crowd screams. Ikari Gozen stands at least 30 feet tall, a red giant with the body of a centaur. Armor plates her entire body, giving her the eerie appearance of a robot.

Almost immediately, the crowds begin to quiet in the presence of one of the West’s most feared Akumas.

“The Rite to Violence is over. By order of Hawkmoth all are to disperse and leave this arena immediately. Any villain found disregarding this direct order will be labeled a traitor to West Paris and will be killed on sight.”

A wave of fear washes over the crowd. Just like that, villains are scrambling for the exits. Villains the made their way into the arena scramble to climb out. There’s more pushing and shoving from the crowds and Volpina can’t help but roll her eyes. Villains may be better than heroes in almost every regard, but at least heroes don’t run around like maniacs.

Volpina somehow makes it out of the arena without being trampled on and starts towards the Louvre. The rest of the villains scatter out in various directions like ants fleeing their colony. Cowards. They don’t even have the dignity to leave with their heads held high.

On the way to the Louvre, Volpina begins planning. Unfortunately, Marinette being alive means she still has a job to do. And with the new order to leave the arena, she hadn’t been able to see where Marinette was taken. The good thing is, there should have plenty of her contacts at the Louvre that have friends in high places. Volpina is confident in her ability to make use of them yet.

Mark her words, she would find Marinette and return her to Lady Wifi. She looks over her shoulder, making out Ikari Gozen in the distance, still in centaur form. And she knows just where to start.

xXx

Alya slams her fist into the punching bag, pushing it back a good couple of inches. As it makes its way back, she uses her elbow instead, taking great pleasure in watching sand fly out on impact. Like most things in the East, the punching bag is old and broken. Years of use had worn through the fabric, creating holes that sometimes scattered sand.

Dancing on the tips of her toes, Alya moves back and forth, as if dodging a real attack. She launches herself, using her power to form a skip signal beneath her that gives her enough leverage to push off it and send her leg into the punching bag.

She pants as she lands, sweat dripping down the back of her neck, her shirt sticking to her back. Alya’s been at this for over an hour and her rage has yet to die down. She’d hope some good old-fashioned exercise would keep her mind off of Marinette, but so far it only seems to have riled her up.

All she can think about is Chat Noir’s smug face as he takes Marinette away. Alya attacks the punching bag again, giving it a one-two combo over and over again. By now, her knuckles are sure to have blisters

“What’s up with you? I don’t think I’ve seen you this worked up in a long time.”

The unexpected visitor startles Alya, throwing her off as she aims the next punch. She trips over her own feet and falls forward.

“Hey! You scared—” Alya stops mid-sentence as she sees who it is. “Alix? You’re okay!” Alya pushes herself off the ground and runs to her friend. The two collide in a hug.

Alya pulls back as she feels Alix wince, holding her at arms length. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Alix waves it off, gesturing to her side with the opposite hand. “Nah, it was nothing. I’ve just got a few bruises, so it’s not that bad.

Alya takes Alix in. There are bandages wrapped around her head, and some snaking up her left arm. Otherwise, she looks fine.

“I didn’t realize you were getting out today,” Alya says. “I would have come to see you. How’s the head doing?”

“Could be worse,” Alix shrugs. “The healers say I got a concussion, but they fixed me up for the most part. Still, I’m under orders to not use my powers for at least a week—something about future vision taking a too much of a toll on the brain, I’m not really sure.” She taps on her bandages. “Note to self: don’t get hit by falling debris next time. Anyway, what’s up with you? I haven’t seen you train like that before.”

Alya looks away, putting her hands behind her back as if she could hide the blisters. “How much have you heard about...what happened?”

“What happened?” Alix asks, raising an eyebrow.

Sighing, Alya tells her. Every up to when Alix got knocked out and she and Nino ran into Chat Noir for the first time. She tells her about the nightmares—which she’s glad have finally started to dissipate— and about how Marinette tried to warn her. She tells her about the villain attack. And finally, she tells her about how Chat Noir kidnapped Marinette.

“We’re trying to get her back, but we have so few options. Max went West to try to get an old friend to help rescue her, but even with that we’re just crossing our fingers and hoping for the best.” Alya cups her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to do, Alix. I can’t just leave Marinette there, but I have a duty to protect East Paris. I can’t risk getting myself captured by storming Crime Central if I go alone, and we don’t have enough heroes if I were to take a team. I wouldn’t be able to guarantee their safety. I feel so useless. I’m supposed to be a hero. I’m supposed to save the day with a smile on my face and have all the answers to every problem. What kind of a hero can’t even save her own friend?”

“The selfless kind that puts the needs of others above her own,” Alix answers without hesitation. “You’re doing the best you can in a situation you never thought you’d be in and you’re having to make some difficult decisions. Protecting the city is and always will be our priority, Alya. You know, that and Marinette does, too. Do you really think she’d want you to rescue her quickly and possibly get injured in the process, or would she want you to wait until the time is right while making sure East Paris is protect?”

Alya swallows. Logically, she knows Alix is right. The other heroes had said as much, too. But that was before she found out about the Rite. Over the years, she’s heard about them on occasion from refugees—horrible brawls between powerful villains that typically ended in bloodshed. The thought that Marinette, who doesn’t have a power, has to _participate_ in one is enough to make Alya want to throw up. And death being the consequence of her losing…

Alya hasn’t told anyone about the Rite. Not even Nino. She tried to early in the day, but had stopped short when she saw her friend’s hopeful faces. With Max due to come back some time in the evening, the other heroes were hoping to get good news about Marinette. Alya hadn’t wanted to ruin it for them by telling them he’d most likely only be bringing bad news.

She doesn’t know what time the Rite is or was. It’s afternoon right now. Marinette could already be dead and she wouldn’t know.

Alya clenches her fist. She has to tell _someone_ about the Rite, about the possibility of Marinette...being dead _._ She doesn’t know how much longer she can hold it in before she explodes.

“I’m scared, Alix,” Alya finds herself saying. “I’m so scared for Marinette. And I know whatever I’m feeling, Marinette is feeling ten times that amount. Heck, even if I was in position I’d be scared out of my mind—and I have powers! But Marinette, she’s just…weak—”

“Marinette is not weak!” Alix cuts her off with a glare. “So what if she doesn’t have powers? Marinette is a kickass girl and she can take care of herself.”

“I know that, but—”

“Do you?” Alix raises an eyebrow defiantly. “Because so far, all I’ve seen you do is worry. Marinette isn’t some pretty pink princess that needs to be hidden away in her tower. She’s been through tough times just like the rest of us and come out better than most people would. Yes, she’s probably scared right now, but she never has been and never will be _weak_ because of it. She can stand to be scared for a little while longer until she gets rescued.”

“You don’t get it!” Alya shouts. “We don’t have time to wait! Marinette needs us _right now_.”

“What are you talking about, of course we have time. We—”

“They’re making her fight a Rite to Violence.”

It’s as every molecule of oxygen is sucked out of the room and for a moment time stops. It’s the first time Alya’s admitted it out loud. She hadn’t imagined it would be so soul crushing.

“Today,” Alya continues as tears start tracing down her cheeks. “And if she doesn’t win they’re going to kill her.”

Alix looks ashen, eyes wide in fear. “No.”

“Max told me last night. I—” Alya looks down, a flush of shape creeping up her neck. “I didn’t have the heart to tell the others. But she’s—she could be.... I’m not ready to say goodbye, Alix. I’m not ready, I’m not ready—” Alya begins to sob, all the emotions from the past two days finally flooding out.

Alix catches her, wrapping her up in a hug as she cries her eyes out. Marinette has been there for her almost since she first became Lady Wifi. Alya had found Marinette wandering through East Paris after dark about almost three years ago. It had been a few weeks after Marinette’s parent’s bakery burned down and Marinette was left an orphan without a home in a city where Akumas had yet to be completely chased to the West and still roamed the streets of East Paris.

She’d taken one look at Marinette and claimed her as her own, taking her to their then-base of operations. At the time, Marinette hadn’t known it was Lady Wifi she was talking to and had been grateful to the kind stranger who took pity on her. They’d grown as close as sisters within weeks, fitting together. It had been a few months before Alya admitted her superhero identity and Marinette had been incredibly supportive. Too much so, in fact. Marinette had insisted she help Alya as a sidekick, but thankfully Alya was able to get her to drop the matter. Marinette’s safety is one of her top priorities and it would be wrong for Alya to allow her to put herself in harms way like that without the protection a power would allow.

From there, Marinette had been her confidant and support system. Whenever Alya felt the crushing weight of her responsibility to hold up the city as Lady Wifi, Marinette was always there for her.

Alya doesn’t know what she’d do if she lost that confidant, that friend.

“Isn’t the Rite to Violence voluntary?” Alix asks, forcing Alya from her thoughts.

“What?” Alya says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“The Rite. From what I’ve heard about it, the only way for one to happen is if a prisoner of Hawkmoth asks for one.” Alix’s eyes narrow. “That means Marinette had to have asked for the Rite.”

“What? No. Marinette wouldn’t have. She knows she wouldn’t win.” Panic rises in Alya’s chest. There’s no way.

“Marinette’s smarter than you give her credit for, Alya. Maybe she knows something we don’t. Maybe the Rite was the lesser of two evils. Or maybe…she knows a way she can win.”

“I know how smart Marinette is, Alix. That’s why I know she’d never sign up for something like this. She doesn’t—”

“Have powers,” Alix says, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. “I know. You’ve mentioned it. You know, for someone who claims to be her friend, you don’t have a lot of faith in her. All you’ve done so far is doubt her.”

“Of course I haven’t! I—” Alya stops, running through the conversation in her head, only to come up empty handed. “I…”

“Look, you can stay here and beat up your punching bag until it breaks,” Alix says, gesturing to said object. “And you can cry all day in here about how awful you feel for Marinette, how big of a failure you are, and how much of a ‘responsibility’ you have. Or, you can trust that Marinette is strong and smart enough to come up with a plan to keep herself alive until she gets rescued. And maybe, just maybe, you can get off your ass, stop worrying about her, and get back to work protecting the city with the rest of us heroes. You’re not the only hero in East Paris, Alya, so quit acting like it’s your job to save everyone.”

Alix turns and heads towards the door, seemingly ending the conversation there. She would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for Nino—currently Bubbler—bursting through the door. 

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Bubbler passes Alix without so much as a second glance. His whole body is on edge and he pants. He probably ran all over the hospital trying to find her.

“What is it?” Alya says, quickly wiping away the rest of her tears. “What happened?”

“Refugees! A whole swarm of them just crossed the border by themselves.”

“How is that possible?” Alya asks, eyes wide. “The villain border guards—”

“Weren’t there. Our own border guards claimed they pulled back earlier today,” Bubbler says.

“What? Hawkmoth wouldn’t do that. The border is too important to him. This has to be some sort of trap, some set up.” Alya wrings her hands.

“That’s what they though at first, too,” Bubbler says. “Until they saw the refugees. There’s at least fifty of them and more are still coming. They said there was a riot near the border in _arrondissement_ fourteen and the border guards were called back to help. The people saw their chance and took it.”

“A riot? But why?” Alix asks, joining the conversation once more.

“You’re not going to believe this, but it’s because of Marinette.”

Fear courses through Alya, flashes of Marinette dead on an arena floor dotting her vision.

“The refugees are saying she fought a Rite to Violence against Stormy Weather,” Bubbler says, looking between Alix and Alya. Alya braces for the moment, for the intangible blow.

Alya looks down. “Is she...dead?”

Her gaze darts up when Bubbler puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Alya, they’re saying she won.” 

xXx

“We can’t kill her,” Mayura insists. “There have already been skirmishes throughout West Paris and if we aren’t careful, we may have a rebellion on our hands.”

“All the more reason to put her in the ground as soon as possible and squash the rebellion before it starts,” Style Queen says with a sniff, tossing golden locks over her shoulder. “We need to show the people that we aren’t something to be trifled with.”

“You’re not getting the bigger picture. Marinette represents something to them,” Mayura says, striding across the study and dragging apart the floor-length curtains. “And our people can see that.”

Through the glass, Hawkmoth sees the Louvre’s plaza, filled with villains who obey only him, making a spectacle at his front door. Even through the walls of the Louvre, he can hear their shouting, booing, jeering. They crave the death of that girl, call out for her blood to be spilled. The guards of the palace hold off the crowd, but Hawkmoth doesn’t know how much longer that will last.

Mayura turns back, a fluid movement of blue fabric and grace. “Marinette has become a symbol for the East, a beacon of hope. She is everything the weak yearn to be: powerless, yet strong, fearful, but still brave. And to top it all off, she’s friends with the greatest hero either half of Paris has ever known. To kill her now would be to make her a martyr.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Hawkmoth asks, clenching a fist around the cane that conceals his blade. “We can’t allow her to get away with her crimes. She made us out to be fools with her defeat of Stormy Weather, and all other Akumas by extension. If we don’t make a show of force, our…less fearful allies may receive the impression that they, too can bend the rules.”

“But did she bend a rule?” Ikari Gozen asks, speaking up for the first time in the conversation.

“Of course she did!” Style Queen says, raising her voice to argue. “She-She…” Style Queen frowns, eyebrows furrowing.

“She did nothing but follow the rules set for the Rite,” Ikari Gozen says calmly. “Punishing her for a crime she did not commit simply because of her friendship with Lady Wifi would set a bad precedent around the Rite. Afterall, the Rite to Violence was created for the purpose of showing West Paris that even enemies of Hawkmoth can be shown mercy if they have the power. To make an exception to this rule would be to kill the system his rule depends on. However…”

Ikari Gozen rises from her chair, bokken in hand. “To not address the situation would raise many issues, as you’ve stated. But death is not an option for the girl, and neither is letting her have the same rewards a normal Rite victor would have.”

“We know this already,” Style Queen sighs, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Get on with it!”

“Perhaps the solution is simpler than it may appear to be,” Ikari Gozen says, turning to Hawkmoth.

Even with her eyes covered, Hawkmoth still feels like they pierce him. “Go on.”

“Let what’s happened sit with the people, but don’t address what Marinette has done. Act like nothing is out of the ordinary.”

Mayura scoffs, but stays quiet, knowing the blind woman’s cleverness.

“But,” says Ikari Gozen. “while you do this, hide her away and out of sight from the people. Take her far away from the Louvre, but still leave her guarded. Make sure the people don’t know where she is, but if asked, imply you know where she is. If Marinette disappears, the people will eventually begin to think she’s abandoned them. She won’t be dead, she won’t be alive. She’ll only be forgotten.”

The room falls silent and Hawkmoth considers this. “That could work. But that would only calm the rebellion. What can we do to appease the villains.”

Mayura snaps her fingers. “A show of force, from someone other than you, not related to Marinette at all. Create a distraction to draw even more attention away from her.”

Hawkmoth feels a plan settle in his mind, falling into place. His son has already received his punishment for failing his mission. But another punishment is in order, seeing as if Adrien hadn’t brought the girl in the first place, Hawkmoth wouldn’t have to be dealing with the fallout.

There’s also the fact that Hawkmoth saw his son’s expression when Marinette won. There’d been relief in his eyes. For a boy who was only supposed to have known the girl for a day it’s very suspicious. He has to be missing something.

It seemed Hawkmoth had multiple reasons to send Marinette as far away as possible.

“I know what the distraction will be,” Hawkmoth says. “Give me a few days to organize it and it will be done. In the meantime, we need to discuss where to send Marinette.”

“No need,” Ikari Gozen says, a wry smile spreading across her lips. “I know the perfect place.” 

xXx

Kagami would be the first to admit that she doesn’t understand boys. Or people in general—she knows she’s very sheltered—but especially boys. When she was younger, she remembers trying to befriend one or two, but none stayed around her longer than they had to. Not that she wanted them to.

Adrien is a different story. He isn’t boring or juvenile like other boys Kagami’s had the misfortune of knowing. He’s respectful of those deserving respect, intelligent, and dedicated—not to mention good looking. It didn’t hurt that he was of her social standing. 

The two met years ago—around the time the barrier appeared—because of their parents’ business dealings and hit it off as friends. They’ve been close ever since, hanging out together whenever permitted. It didn’t take long for Kagami to develop feelings.

Two months ago, Kagami thought her feelings were reciprocated. Adrien seemed to finally be seeing her as something more so she decided to go for it. At a victory party celebrating the downfall of a hero whose name Kagami couldn’t be bothered to remember, she worked up the nerve to kiss him.

She would have if he hadn’t left to get some punch right as she was leaning in. It hurt, but it wasn’t an outright rejection, so Kagami held out hope. There hadn’t been another chance to confess since then, especially with how distant he’s become.

Kagami doesn’t know what happened, or why, but Adrien hasn’t been himself lately. Starting about a month ago, he’s been acting strangely. There were these moments throughout the day where they’d be talking and he’d just stop for a second and look around. It only lasted a few seconds, but he was always disoriented right after it happened. When she asked, he claimed it was nothing and changed the subject.

After that came the lying. At first, it was all-too obvious, but over the last month, he’s been getting better at telling lies. Still not good enough to fool her, but good enough to fool just about anyone who didn’t know him well. Which is why Kagami isn’t surprised he was able to lie to his father, too.

The part Kagami still hasn’t figured out is his desire to go East. For as long as she’s known him, Adrien has adored the West. He loves the parties, the excitement, sneaking out and joining up with kids their age at thieving competitions. And, on occasion, he enjoys an arena fight or two. It doesn’t make sense that he wants to go East.

Kagami reclines against the padded couch, watching Chat Noir as he paces the room. He hasn’t been able to sit still ever since the Rite this morning.

“Adrikins, could you stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy with all that walking,” Chloe says from a _chaise_ across the room as she eats away at a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Kagami offers, scooting over to make room for him on the couch. “You look like you could use a little relaxation time.”

The closes thing she gets to a response is a slight shake of the head. Frustration bubbles up inside her.

“Are you at least going to tell us what’s bothering you?” Kagami asks, unable to mask her anger. “Because if it’s about the Rite, I’m sure our parents will figure out some loophole to get that girl killed and you won’t have to deal with her for much longer.”

That does _not_ make him feel better. In fact it does the opposite. Chat Noir finally turns towards her, but instead of a look of gratitude, Kagami is faced with a glare. She flinches, unsure how she set him off.

“You don’t understand,” he says, stopping his pacing. His jaw tightens and he looks away from her, anger exuding from him in waves.

“Well, I would if you’d just tell me.” Kagami stands and makes her way over to him, planting herself right in front of him.

They lock gazes. His contact lenses make his sclera eerily green, almost making Kagami falter.

“Oh, just kiss each other already,” Chloe says.

Something about the word ‘kiss’ pulls Chat Noir out of his angry state and he steps back from Kagami. His eyes go wide and he touches his lips, staring off at nothing.

Kagami blinks in confusion. _What the hell does_ that _mean?_ Her list of things she doesn’t know about Adrien keeps getting longer. Does that mean he’s kissed someone before? Or is he embarrassed about their almost-kiss those short months ago?

No, that can’t be it. Because if was about their almost-kiss Chat Noir wouldn’t look so afraid right now. He shakes his head and returns to his pacing.

Kagami doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get _him_. The way he’s acting isn’t something she’s used to. They’re supposed to be friends, but lately it seem like he’s pushing her away. If Kagami were a weaker person, she’d probably cry right now. But she isn’t weak. She is strong, heir to the Tsurugi bloodline. And Tsurugi’s don’t cry.

There’s a knock at the door. Ikari Gozen doesn’t wait for an answer as she strides into the room.

“Mother,” Kagami says, stiffening. She instinctively corrects her posture, back going ramrod straight. “You’re done with your meeting.”

“Ikari Gozen,” Chat Noir mumbles as a greeting, Chloe doing thing same.

“You two, leave,” Mother says. “I want to talk with my daughter.”

Chloe and Chat Noir glance at each other and obey. When the door clicks shut, Kagami braces herself.

“I have a new task for you,” her mother says, getting straight to the point. “You are to go back to the manor in _arrondissement_ eight.”

“But Mother, I just got back—”

“Don’t talk back to me. You _will_ go back home, but not for the reason you’re thinking.” Ikari Gozen pauses, giving her words time to sink in. “Now, what I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room. Do you understand?”

Kagami takes a deep breath. “Yes, Mother.”

“Good. Hawkmoth has made the decision not to kill Marinette. He wants her relocated somewhere out of the way, instead. Your mission is to bring Marinette to the manor undetected and stay their to watch over her and make sure she doesn’t escape.”

A mission. Her mother is sending her on a _real_ mission. It isn’t the front lines, but it’s the closest thing her mother has done to giving her a challenge. “I understand, Mother. I won’t let you down. When do I leave?”

“Marinette is being moved to our car as we speak. You should hurry if you want don’t want to arouse suspicion. Tsurugi women are never late.”

“Tsurugi women are never late,” Kagami echoes.

And so, Kagami finds herself leaving the Louvre without saying goodbye to Adrien. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe some time apart will do them some good and give him enough time to calm down about whatever he’s worrying about.

As Kagami climbs in the passenger seat of her family’s car, she rolls her eyes at Marinette’s sleeping form, knocked out and tied up in the back. It’s a good thing the car has tinted windows.

Finally situated, Kagami turns to the driver and says, “Take me home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUN! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so many different perspectives, so many characters. I'm not as confident in my portrayal of Alix, though. I tried to make her a more somber and serious person for this AU, but I'm not sure I did it quite right. If anyone has some tips on how to write her, I'd love to hear them. As always, if you have theories, questions, suggestions, or a part you really enjoyed, please leave them in the comments. I love reading them. Until next time, take care!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow, this story has five thousand hits and I'm kind of shook. Thanks to everyone who's been with me for a while and hello to anyone new!

Something is wrong. Something is so, so, so wrong. Confined to his room with nothing to do and nowhere to go, Chat Noir paces, growing more anxious by the second. Because the thing between him and Marinette, the mysterious bond that ties them together, is going taut. It’s like a string of elastic. When they were far apart, the stretch that was pulling them together was uncomfortable, but they were used to it so it seemed more bearable. But, when they were finally united, the elastic lost its strain and tension, content to hang loose between them—still there, but much more bearable. In the single _day_ he’s known her, Chat got used to the bond being loose, being more pleasant than it was a discomfort. So, Chat was _not_ ready to feel their bond progressively become more strained.

To put it lightly, it’s torture. Chat feels like every atom in his body is being ripped apart bit by bit. It’s not painful, exactly, but it’s far from comfortable. It even claws at Chat’s mind, unrelenting, leaving him unable to think straight. All he can do to stay sane is repeat her name over and over in his head.

The logical part of his brain tells him that perhaps this is an overreaction. He doesn’t know Marinette, not really. He shouldn’t be missing her in the slightest, much less missing her to the core of his being. The more violent, feral part wants to hiss, shriek, and tear apart anything and everything that’s keeping him from going after her. But again, the logical part of his brain reminds him that he doesn’t know where that is. Or how to get there. Or how long it would take.

This isn’t how things were supposed to go. After the Rite, Marinette was supposed to stay here, in the Louvre, with him. She _won_ for god’s sake, she’s entitled to it. Chat should have known that his father would intervene.

Another wave of mental agony passes through him and Chat grabs the nearest pillow and screams into it. Somewhere out there, Marinette’s end of the bond calls to him, a siren’s song, and him, the poor sailor. He wants it to stop. Stop, stop, stop. The pulling of the bond is too much, too strong.

He wants to fight. He wants to shout. He wants to hit something. He wants to run out of his room, after Marinette, stop anyone who tries to get in his way, and bring her back to him. But he can’t do any of that. All he can do is curl up into a ball and feel like he’s dying. Maybe a part of him is.

xXx

_Marinette winces as the doctor inspects the wound on her head. The caked blood had long been cleaned off, but there’s still a giant bruise, as well as a fresh set of stitches. She tries not to bite her lip as the doctor continues her prodding, rattling off something to one a nurse, who promptly leaves._

_“Well, that’s all I can do for you for now. Take it easy the next couple days and get plenty of rest. The stitches should dissolve, so don’t worry about that, but if you have any other problems, you know where to find me. But please, don’t go running into trouble again. You were lucky this time, don’t push it.”_

_The doctor gives her one last look of warning and leaves the room, leaving Marinette alone. It doesn’t last long, as seemingly the second the doctor leaves, Alya rushes in._

_Several emotions flash across her features, first fear, then sadness, then anger, and others Marinette can’t be bothered to name._

_Before Marinette can speak, Alya beats her to it._

_“What were you thinking?”_

_Marinette flinches at her friend’s harsh tone._

_“Do you have any idea how dangerous that stunt you pulled was?” Alya strides across the room and stops at the foot of Marinette’s bed, looking torn between staying put and rushing forward to either strangle or hug her. “You could have been killed. You almost were!”_

_“But I wasn’t,” Marinette says. “I’m fine.” Her fingers play at the sheets of her hospital bed._

_“You call getting slammed head first into a building ‘fine’?” Alya says, her volume rising a couple of notches._

_“If I hadn’t stepped in, those refugees would have been hurt far worse than I was. I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing,” Marinette says, glaring up at her friend._

_“How many times have I told you? You don’t have powers. You can’t just rush into fights,” Alya says. She starts pacing back and forth. “What if something had happened? What if I hadn’t gotten there in time? What if—”_

_“What if the sun randomly exploded and we all died,” Marinette cuts her off. “It doesn’t matter what did or didn’t happen. Everything turned out fine today! I save those people. I may have gotten hurt, but I’ll heal.”_

_Alya is quiet, but Marinette knows her thoughts are running a mile a minute._

_Marinette took a deep breath before continuing, knowing how Alya would feel about what she’d say next. “I can’t just sit around and do nothing while innocent people suffer, Alya. I want—no, I_ need _to be out there in the field with you. Powers, or no powers. Please,” Marinette begs, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I can’t live like this anymore. You can’t just leave me here every time you go on a rescue mission and expect me to stay behind, shut up in this stupid hospital._ Please _, Alya.”_

_Alya froze. After a beat, she looks back at Marinette, her gaze resolute. “No.”_

_“No? But I—”_

_“_ I said no! _”_

_The room shakes as Alya sends off a blast, pure purple energy colliding with the walls. Marinette barely manages to avoid it, ducking beneath it and falling out of bed in the process._

_“Marinette!”_

_Alya’s at her side in an instant, helping her up. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—I never wanted—”_

_Marinette shoves her off, staring at the floor as she pants._

_“I’m sorry,” Alya says, her voice wavering as she hesitantly steps back._

_“Don’t,” Marinette whispers. “Just don’t.”_

_“Do you understand what I’m saying now?” Alya asks anyway. “How could you hope to face real villains if you can’t even handle my power when I wasn’t even trying to hit you? You’re not strong enough, not without powers. No one is.”_

_Marinette forces her fingers into fists. “You’re right. I’m not strong enough.” Her voice cracks at the end and then she lets out a sob, curling her knees up to her chest._

_Alya drops to her knees, wrapping her arms around Marinette as she cries. Marinette buries her face in Alya’s shoulder. Alya strokes a hand down Marinette’s head._

_“I’m sorry, Marinette. I wish there was something I could do to help. You have a big heart and I know it hurts to see so many people helpless, but sometimes you have to accept that there’s nothing you can do but be patient. Please, I don’t want to see you hurt. You’re all I have left. So just…stay. Please.”_

_Something inside Marinette breaks. A dream, a hope, a wish. “Okay. I’ll stay.”_

xXx 

Marinette gasps, bolting upright the dream—memory?—still spiraling through her mind. She takes deep breaths as her heart rate slows and she tries to relax. She holds a hand to her forehead, blinking rapidly as she gets her bearings.

When she does, it doesn’t take her long to realize that she has no idea where she is. She’s sitting on what has to be the most comfortable bed she’s ever slept in. The black sheets are silky smooth hand the pillows are fluffed to perfection, though everything’s a bit ruffled seeing as she’d been sleeping there up until moments before. The bed is also a canopy, dark red sheets surrounding her on all sides, giving the allusion that she’s in a cage. She probably is.

Marinette shifts, maneuvering her legs out from under the sheets. Something about this feels off and her chest feels tight. She feels like she’s forgetting something, but her sleep-addled brain keeps her from remembering. Another thing she can’t remember is how the heck she got here. One minute, she was being taken away from the arena by the healers and a few of Hawkmoth’s guards, the next she was waking up here. So what happened? Was she taken to her new room in the Louvre? That’s what was supposed to happen after the Rite so that was a possibility.

Slipping off the bed, Marinette finds the center of one of the bed’s curtains and pulls it to the side. The room is larger than any room she’s ever stayed in. Her room at the hospital could probably fit in here at least ten times over. Her toes dig into the plush off-white carpet as she takes in the walls lined in red wallpaper, black swirl designs running from floor to ceiling. Straight across from the bed is a grand fireplace, though there isn’t any wood for a fire or anything needed to tend one.

“Hello?” Marinette calls, slowly walking forward as she sees a set of black double doors with fancy gold doorknobs. The way out? But when she tugs on then, she sighs. Locked. So she is a prisoner. And this room must be her very, _very_ , big prison cell.

Deciding to try to make the most of it, Marinette sets out exploring the room. To the right of the fireplace is a sitting area with a couch and a matching set of chairs, all black and red— _seriously, what is with this place?_ —surrounding a coffee table. To the left of the fireplace is a wardrobe and a dresser. When she checks, there are a few pairs of pajamas in the dresser as well couple pairs of pants and several shirts. The wardrobe is entirely filled with fancy dresses. Everything _—everything_ —is red and black.

At the back of the room and to the right, there’s a small bathroom stripped to its bare essentials: a toilet, a sink, a shower, and two towels. It doesn’t matter if the bathroom isn’t as fancy as the rest of the place, Marinette’s just glad she has one. In her other cell, if she needed to go to the bathroom, she had to wait for the guards to bring a bucket, which they did every couple of hours. It hadn’t been pretty, either, because the guards had stood watch while she…relieved herself. It had been mortifying and utterly embarrassing. Seriously, what could she have possibly done with a bucket to warrant being watched while she peed?

As Marinette left the bathroom, she vowed to shower and change into a fresh pair of clothes as soon as she searched the room for anything she could use to escape. With a new awareness of the room’s layout, she sets to work.

The longer Marinette searches her new prison cell, the more she can’t help but feel that something’s wrong. It creeps up on her, slowly at first, a snake slithering through the grass towards a field mouse. But eventually, the snake begins to coil around the mouse, cutting off its circulation until—

_Wrong_ . The word ricochets through her, heavy and painful. Everything is _wrong_ . And then she can’t breathe. She starts coughing falling to her knees on the floor, gasping for breath. _Wrong, wrong, wrong_. For a moment, Marinette thinks she’s been poisoned. Something in the air, or something she touched. Someone must be watching her, playing a mean trick and letting her think she’d been given a nice room to be held prisoner, only to take it away almost instantly. Lightheaded, Marinette supposes there could be worse places to die. But then she feels it. And she understands.

It’s not poison. That _thing_ between her and Chat, that bond, has been pulled insurmountably tight. It’s agony and it’s pain. Marinette crumples completely to the floor and she vaguely registers the carpet rubbing at her cheek. She tries to breathe, but her brain is foggy, and her vision clouds. She claws at her throat, fingernails scraping her skin hair enough to draw blood.

All she can focus on is that bond. What was once a short bridge from one side to the other is now a canyon, an empty abyss with nothing to cross but a tightrope.

“Chat.”

His name bubbles to the surface of her consciousness and spills out of her without her consent, so breathy and quiet it’s almost inaudible. She can feel him at the end of that tightrope. He’s not dead, only far away. But how painful being apart is. _Is he suffering, too?_ she wonders. He must be. That thought hurts, too.

Marinette stays on the floor, gasping for breath, for what feels like hours, but would likely only have been a few minutes. Slowly, though, her breath steadies. Even when she can breathe again, though, she stays on the floor for a while. The sensation of _wrong_ is still there, but the longer she feels it, the more she gets used to it, and the less obnoxious it becomes.

She eventually peels herself off the floor and forces herself on autopilot, grabbing a pair of black pants, a red camisole, and fresh undergarments from the dresser and heading straight towards the shower. Once she’s clean and grime-free, she changes into her new clothes and feels ten times better. She hadn’t realized how disgusting she felt in her threadbare clothes.

Marinette walks back to the bedroom section of her new prison with damp hair trailing down her back, her old clothes bundled in her arms.

“I must admit, I didn’t think it would take this long for you to wake up.”

Marinette drops her clothes, freezing in place.

Sitting on one of the chairs in the sitting area is a girl around Marinette’s age. She has dark raven hair cut above her shoulders and a set of dark brown eyes that stare piercingly at Marinette. She shivers under the gaze, failing to get a read on the girl’s expression. Whoever she is, this girl is phenomenal at masking her emotions. But reading someone’s emotions isn’t the only way to get a read on someone. Marinette knows better than most how much clothes are able to tell about a person.

The girl is wearing a red skirt that goes down to the knees paired with black tights and shiny red flats. She has a simple white undershirt paired with a black blazer with some sort of gold and red embroidered insignia on the left pocket. The insignia appears to be a character in either Chinese or Japanese. Marinette curses herself for not letting her mother teach her when she was younger. Still, the insignia itself says enough, as does the neatly pressed collar of her blazer and the polished nature of her shoes. Expensive, well-maintained, and immaculately put together. She must be a high-ranking official, or the daughter or niece of one judging by her age. But given that she’s here with Marinette alone, she’s not one to be underestimated.

Marinette may have faced Stormy Weather, but that’s because she’d been able come up with a strategy, and she’d gotten really, _really_ , lucky. And besides, this isn’t a battle. Still, that doesn’t mean she can’t go in with a plan. This girl seems like the type to be no-nonsense. Good. Marinette can do the same.

“How long have I been asleep?” Marinette says plainly, masking her emotions as best she can and crossing the room to sit in the other chair, opposite the girl.

“Two days,” the girl says, smoothing down her skirt.

Marinette tries not to let her surprise show. Two days. A lot could happen in two days. “I guess that explains why I’m so hungry, then,” she says, chuckling in attempts to lighten the mood.

The girl doesn’t smile, but she does say, “I’ll have dinner brought up to you as soon as I leave, then.” There’s a short pause before the girl says, “I suppose you’re probably wondering where you are and why you’re here.”

To this, Marinette says nothing.

The girl continues anyway. “Let’s start with the why. What you did at the Rite gave Hawkmoth a lot of grief. Your actions have caused many disturbances across West Paris and he is less than enthusiastic about that. Due to the rules of the Rite, however, there wasn’t a way to kill you.”

Marinette inhales sharply. What had she done at the Rite other than beat Stormy Weather that made her an enemy of Hawkmoth? And what did she mean by ‘disturbances’?

“So, his solution was to send you away from everything for a while. I’m not going to tell you where in Paris you are,”—Oh, Marinette can guess. Somewhere far away from Crime Central if her bond with Chat was anything to go by—“but just know no one, and I mean _no one_ is coming to save you. There are only five people in this entire city, other than the staff in this house, that know where you are. So I do hope you plan on enjoying your stay here because these are the only surroundings you’re going to see for a while.”

Marinette swallows. Five people. Hawkmoth is one, so is this girl. Only three other people in the entire city knew about here, and she can bet it’s not anyone useful. Her heart plummets in her chest.

“I’ll be checking on you every couple of hours for the next few weeks, and if you’re good, I might be able to bring you books or cards if you would like. Oh,” the girl says as she stands. “I nearly forgot. You may call me, Kagami. I look forward to getting to know you, Marinette.”

Marinette sits in her chair, looking at her hands long after Kagami leaves the room.

No one who could rescue her knows where she is. _She_ doesn’t even know where she is. Which means no one is coming to rescue her.

xXx

“How many this time?” Lady Wifi asks without preamble as she steps into the conference room.

Bubbler, Timebreaker, and Gamer are already sitting around the table and look up as she enters. Typically meetings have more heroes present, but given the short notice and that the others currently have their hands full, it’s to be expected.

Timebreaker stands up, holding a stack of papers. “Our border guards say at least twenty, with a likely chance of more on the way.”

Lady Wifi pulls out a chair and sits down, folding her hands together on the table. She crosses her legs, bouncing her feet. “The groups are getting smaller. Why?”

Gamer stands as Timebreaker sits. “If I may, yesterday’s two groups also displayed a decline in the number of escape refugees while also showing an increase in the number of wounded and the severity of the wounds. There is a 77% chance that after the first wave of refugees, Hawkmoth sent reinforcements to keep the border under control. It is entirely possible that if this trend continues, he may choose to enact a blockade to keep the refugees in. Other routes he may take include martial law, arresting rioters, or outright killing of anyone spurning on rioters.”

Lady Wifi mutters a curse under her breath. “I can’t endorse more riots if people are going to get hurt by this. I had hoped I wouldn’t have to do this, but…They leave me no choice. Tomorrow, I’ll make a broadcast denouncing the riots.”

“Alya, you can’t mean that,” Bubbler says, reaching a hand across the table to caress her own. “These people are only trying to escape, and for some this may be their only chance.”

“At this rate, more people are going to die than are going to be rescued. And even if they don’t, too many are getting hurt. Our healers are running themselves ragged trying to help more than _one hundred_ people all at once. We don’t have the capacity to take anyone else in.” Lady Wifi stared her boyfriend in the eye, pleading with him to understand. “It hurts me, too, but we don’t have a choice. It would be different if they had powers, but most of them are normal people who can barely defend themselves. I’m sorry, but I can’t support another riot unless we send in heroes to defend the refugees as they escape.”

“But we’re heroes,” Bubbler says, face falling. “We’re supposed to protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

Anger rises in Lady Wifi, bubbling to the surface. She stands, slamming her hands against the table. Her comrades flinch in unison. “I _am_ protecting them—protecting them from themselves. Yes, the refugees are fearful, but would you rather they be alive and behind enemy lines, or hurt and dying on our doorstep while our doctors and healers can do nothing to save them?”

“Couldn’t we send heroes to the West to help keep the rioters safe?” Timebreaker asks slowly, carefully. “Most of the refugees are powerless, as you said, but some of them aren’t. If we were to send in heroes to direct them, we’d have more manpower to fight Hawkmoth’s forces.”

“Under normal circumstances, you’d be right, Timebreaker. But we also have to consider the fact that we have nearly two hundred new people to protect. We need as many heroes as we can spare staying here to protect the hospital and our new wounded. The rest of the rioters will have to wait. Do I make myself clear?”

All three other heroes look like they want to object, but no one speaks.

“Good. Now, before I end this meeting, Max,” she turns towards Gamer. “Any news yet from your contact?”

Gamer frowns and shakes his head. “Nothing. Though, that was always an option. There was a 68% chance that she wouldn’t be able to contact us within the first week. But that is now an 85% chance because the riots may have set Hawkmoth on edge and caused her to be wary of trying to make contact.”

Lady Wifi clenches a fist. “Alright. Meeting adjourned. I’ll get ready for the announcement and you three go see if there’s any way we can help the newest group of refugees.”

The other three heroes stand up and Gamer and Timebreaker file out of the room. Bubbler lingers.

Lady Wifi pinches the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. She’s been getting stress headaches every now and then since she started being a hero, but they’ve gotten worse for her the last couple of days. It’s been getting harder and harder to hide that she was in pain.

“Babe,” Bubbler says softly, crossing the room to stand in front of her. He grabs her hand and squeezes. “Are you okay?”

She breathes out, grabs the nearest chair, and collapses into it.

“Babe!” Bubbler kneels down, clasping her hands in his, and stares up at her with worried eyes.

“I don’t know, Nino,” she says. “I’m just so exhausted. I haven’t been sleeping. There’s just too much to worry about. The new riots, the refugees, Marinette…I don’t know what to do.” She hides her face in her hands.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Bubbler suggests, placing a hand on her knee. “You’re no good to anyone if you can barely stand.”

“Don’t you see, Nino? I can’t. So many people are depending on me. So many powerless people are looking to me for guidance, for help. I have to set the example. And don’t get me started on Marinette. She won the Rite, but what happened after? The riots only started because she showed them that powerless people could stand up to Hawkmoth and win. He could have killed her since then and we wouldn’t know a damn thing.”

“We don’t know that,” Bubbler says, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Alya, look at me.”

She finally does.

He squeezes her shoulders. “Marinette is okay. If she wasn’t, Max’s contact would have said something by now. We can’t afford to worry about her right now. All we can do is trust that Max’s contact knows what she’s doing. In the meantime, you need to rest, okay?”

Lady Wifi sighs and hangs her head in defeat. “Fine. I’ll take a nap, but you have to promise to wake me up if I sleep more than three hours.”

Bubbler grins. “No guarantees.”

He stands up and offers her a hand. She takes it gratefully, holding his hand in hers. Just as they’re about to leave the room, she says, “You know what really irks me about this whole situation?”

“What?” Bubbler asks.

“I’m glad that Marinette won at the Rite, I really am. But what no one seems to get is that she got ridiculously lucky. She’s become this symbol of retaliation when all she’s trying to do is stay alive. And that…that type of thing can be harmful. All these people are rallying to her ‘cause’ and they now think they’re invincible when they’re not. And they’re going to get hurt because of it.”

Bubbler looks at her. Then, says, “She gives them hope, and something to fight for. Is that so bad?”

Lady Wifi shakes her head. “Hope on its own is helpful, but misplaced hope can be more dangerous than if there isn’t hope at all.”

xXx

Volpina is getting sick of dead ends. Her first plan had been a complete bust. When she returned to the Louvre, no one had been allowed in for the first few hours. But she was used to setbacks, so she went on to her backup plan. Which also fell through. As had plans three, four, and five. Volpina is starting to run out of options.

But, thanks to her excellent connections, she’d been able to find out a few tidbits here and there that set plan six into motion. While shmoozing at the Rite to Violence’s after-party once Hawkmoth allowed people back into the Louvre, she’d found out that Hawkmoth’s current right hands were Ikari Gozen, Style Queen, and Mayura. At first, this information hadn’t been valuable. But after Volpina had conjured an illusion to make herself look like a guard and infiltrated the dungeon in search of Marinette during plan two, only to find no one, the information had quickly become invaluable.

Hearing about the riots in Marinette’s name early on, Volpina quickly understood that Marinette was now a high profile prisoner of Hawkmoth. Someone like her is too valuable to keep in a regular dungeon cell. So, she came to the conclusion that even if Hawkmoth was too risky a target to try and get info out of, his seconds were not.

She’d tried Mayura first, only to soon discover how unfriendly the woman is. None of Volpina’s connections had a personal connection with her, and to make matters worse, they didn’t know anyone who did either.

Volpina had hoped Ikari Gozen could be more of a wellspring of connections, but she turned out to be a very private person. She does have a daughter Volpina’s age that she’d tried to seek out, but for some reason, the daughter had up and disappeared. Disappointing, but that didn’t leave Volpina with nothing.

Left with no other choice, Volpina set after Style Queen. Now there’s a villain who knows how to make connections.

Which leads her to her current position, on the arm of Dark Cupid, pretending to enjoy his flirtations as he leads her to her next target. She found this bumbling idiot after tailing Malediktator, Style Queen’s husband.

“…so of course, I challenged him to a race,” Dark Cupid is saying, trying to sound as macho as possible. “And won, obviously.” He grins down at her flirtatious. Volpina wants to gag.

Instead, she flutters her eyelashes and grips his bicep tighter. “Wow, you must be so fast. I can already tell you’re strong, but…” Slowly, Volpina traces a tantalizing finger down the curves of his muscles and lets her sentence trail off. She has to force herself to think of something else to make her gaze seem longing: the reward she was going to earn when she finishes this job, people shaking with fear when she enters a room, ditching Dark Cupid the second he was no longer useful.

Dark Cupid swallows, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks, barely visible in the darkness of the city block. “I, uh…yeah, thanks.”

Too easy.

The two walk a little further and then Dark Cupid leads them down an alley until they reach a door. He knocks three times and the door opens a crack.

“Stick it to the adults,” Dark Cupid says. It must be some sort of password because the door opens all the way.

“She’s with me,” Dark Cupid says as they pass, nodding to the villain manning the door.

As the door shuts behind them, Volpina faintly hears music.

“I hope you’re ready to see what a true West Paris secret party looks like,” Dark Cupid says.

“Oh, I’m ready,” Volpina says, lips curling.

The party is being held in an abandoned warehouse and Volpina admires what they’ve done to the place. They being the teen children of high ranking West Paris officials. Everyone who’s everyone is here, as long as they aren’t an adult. Apparently, even with the collapse of society, teenagers still hate their parents. And given that they all live in the shadows of rich and famous villains, they do it in style.

There are lights flashing everywhere in every color in time with the pounding music. The entire place is dripping in valuable fabrics, gems, couches, the whole shebang. There are piles and piles of stolen furniture and jewelry, most of which are being lounged on by the teen villains. What better way to show the world how important you are than to have all the riches anyone could ever want and still not care about any of it.

“I’m going to get us some drinks from the bar,” Dark Cupid says, seeming antsy. “Anything you want in particular?”

Volpina grins, thankful for the easy escape. “I’ll have whatever you’re having, darling.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “R-Right! I’ll just…I’ll go get the drinks.”

Dark Cupid darts off somewhere, probably towards the bar, leaving Volpina free to explore.

As she wanders through the party, she can’t help but feel giddy. This is why she likes the West more than the East. The West throws the _best_ parties. She doubts the East knows what a party is.

Over the next half hour, Volpina lets herself enjoy the party. Work can wait for a while. She’ll find her target sometime this evening, she’s sure. Somehow, she ends up with someone else’s drink in her hand, a scarf, and a diamond-encrusted necklace secured tightly around her neck. She’s not complaining in the slightest.

“Adrikins, stop moping. This is a party and you’re ruining my mood.”

“Then maybe you should find someone else to go bother. I told you I didn’t want to be here, Queenie.”

“Adrikins—”

“Chat Noir.”

“Fine, Chat Noir. For the last three days you’ve been a major whiner. I couldn’t let you stay in your room for the third night in a row crying about your father being mad at you.”

“Shut up, that wasn’t what I was doing.”

Volpina turns and her eyes fix on the two teens, a boy clad in a black leather catsuit, and a girl dressed in a yellow bee costume. Bingo. They sit together on a red chaise with gold trim.

Chat Noir takes a swig of the half-empty beer bottle in his hand and Queen Bee grimaces. “Since when do you drink, anyway?”

Chat Noir side-eyes her. “Since I’m trying to get drunk. Now if you’ll leave me alone, I’d really like to get back to doing that.”

Volpina eyes Chat Noir. Hawkmoth’s son, and the reason for all her troubles. He’s the one who stole Marinette in the first place. She looks up and down, taking a moment to admire his physique. She had half the mind to abandon her mission and try to get him to spend the night with her. All those muscles and that face… She has no idea how no girl has pounced on him yet. But, alas, her mission is more important.

“Ugh, fine! Stay here for all I care,” Queen Bee says, standing up and brushing off her suit. “I’m going to go have fun. You’re being ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.” With that, Queen Bee stormed away.

Volpina let her gaze stay on Chat Noir for a beat longer than necessary. As he watches Queen Bee leave, he chugs the rest of his beer, leans over behind the couch to grab—another beer. He uses a claw to get the cap off and starts drinking again. Volpina takes in his expression and notices something she hadn’t before. He looks like he hadn’t slept in days. There’s no spark of life in his eyes. He looks like a dead man walking, taking tonight to drown his troubles in alcohol.

She makes a mental note of this. The son of Hawkmoth trying to drink himself to unconsciousness? What a delicious secret.

Regretfully, Volpina takes her leave, following her true target. She stalks Queen Bee for the rest of the night, a fox hunting its prey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, a lot of big plot threads are starting to reveal themselves... I wonder what's going to happen? This chapter was amazing to write. We're finally starting to get a real glimpse into Alya and Marinette's relationship. It's not what it quite seems, is it? Full disclosure, Alya's one of my favorite characters in the show, so this in no way is meant to come off as Alya salt. More like...I care about her so much that I'm giving her a crisis that's a main aspect of this fic. Have any questions, comments, or suggestions? Leave a comment, I love reading your thoughts and hearing your theories. If you're interested in more of my works, I started a very short Mermaid AU fic for Miraculous called Crossing Oceans. Don't know when the next update is coming out, but it will probably be before the next chapter of Find Me In The Rubble, so keep your eyes peeled.


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